


Beastly

by xHookedonKillianx



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 19:09:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 80,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16124873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xHookedonKillianx/pseuds/xHookedonKillianx
Summary: Meet Killian Jones. Attractive. Wealthy. Arrogant. He has it all… until he becomes aggressively unattractive outside as he is on the inside. Cursed to find someone that can see him better than he can see himself, he hides away, because who could ever learn to love a beast?





	1. Across The Universe

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t believe it’s time to post!!! It seems like just yesterday I was debating on even joining (anxiety getting the better of me) and here we are! This has been such an amazing and fun experience, all of you have been nothing short of awesome and I’m so honored to be among such wonderfully talented people!
> 
> Shout out to @initiala and @idristardis for being the best beta’s a girl could ask for. You kicked my ass and flailed and helped shape this story into what it is now and I can’t thank you enough. 
> 
> Joining the CSBB truly means you hit the lotto because not only do you get a group of people there to help and encourage you at a moments notice, you also get matched with an artist who quite literally, brings your story to life, and that’s what @cocohook38 did for me. It’s better than I could have ever dreamed.
> 
> Please please make sure you go check out all the other stories included with this project. They are all amazing and you won’t regret it, I assure you.

                                                                                        

**May – 2006**

The words on the side of the building are large and thick. They can be seen for miles. Then again, that was his father’s intent. He wanted everyone to know who owned the largest building in the city.

**Jones Shipping, Inc.**

Killian remembers the day they were unveiled like it was just yesterday. He was sixteen, and the crowd around them cheered as his father pulled the curtain down, while his older brother, Liam, sat back with a scowl on his face.

The next day, he awoke to find Liam gone—moved out in the middle of the night—and his father cursing him.

_“He left! Can you believe that? Not even a note for you! His own brother!” Brennan walked over to him and placed his hands on Killian’s shoulders. “You won’t do that, will you, son? You won’t abandon me as your brother has, right?”_

Shaking his head to rid himself of the memory, Killian pockets his sunglasses and checks his reflection in the elevator door, knowing his father would not allow him to look anything less than perfect. His entire life his father told him that how much people like a person is directly proportional to how they look, which meant nothing less than the best would do for the Jones men.

Designer clothes, top of the line cars, and the finest prep school London has to offer, with the ultimate end game being working side by side with his father.

However, with his schooling almost at an end, Killian hopes he’ll be able to convince his father to allow him to take a different path, a path he’s only dared to dream of late at night while he’s alone in his room.

There’s a _ding_ before the elevator doors open and Killian takes a deep breath in attempt to calm his nerves before stepping off and approaching the desk of Brennan’s executive assistant.

“Hello, Fiona.” The older woman raises her perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him and he stops. “What?”

“Fix your hair, you’re not in a bloody music video.”

His brow furrows as he turns to look at his reflection in one of the many mirrors hanging on the wall.

“What’s wrong with—”

A loud sigh passes her lips as she pushes herself away from the desk. Her heels clack on the tile floor as she walks forward and her hands are swiping his hair back before he can finish.

“Please tell me you did not go to the gallery opening looking this way?” He opens his mouth to answer when she moves to straighten his tie and cuts him off, “I thought I told Tiger to dress you in the blue tie?”

“I prefer red.”

Fiona’s lips press together and she shakes her head while brushing something off of his shoulder.

“Yes, well, while you may be able to use your charm with my wife to get what you want… it won’t work with me. I’ll be sending the tailor over before tonight’s event where you’ll be wearing _blue_. It brings out the color of your eyes.”

He gives a huff of annoyance, but his lips stay sealed. He knows better than to argue. His eyes flicker into his father’s office to see the man leaning back in his chair with his phone to his ear, and though his voice is cheerful, his eyes show the true agitation he’s feeling.

Just another useful trick Brennan Jones has up his sleeve; the ability to make a person believe what he’s saying, even if it’s complete bullshit.

“Will he be long?”

When there’s no answer, he looks back to Fiona and is surprised to find her standing before him with her hand held up to his face. For a moment, he’s unsure as to what she wants, until she quirks her brow. He rolls his eyes.

_Heaven forbid he puts something containing sugar into his mouth._

The hard candy falls off his tongue and into her palm as she berates, “You know better than to eat something like this, it’ll rot your teeth. Where did you get it?”

“They were in the bowl down in the lobby.”

Her long, dark hair almost whips him in the face as she turns back to her desk to deposit the candy and he watches her take a tissue to wipe her hand.

“Seems I need to have a chat with our newest employee.”

Putting his hand in his pocket, he asks, “What happened to Gail?”

Fiona lifts the pair of glasses that hang around her neck and places them on the tip of her nose as she takes a seat.

“She was let go due to poor work ethic,” she answers dryly, her gaze moving over a memo she’s holding in front of her.

He almost snorts, but instead shakes his head.

“Gail has been with the company for over ten years and suddenly she has poor work ethic? What’s the real reason?”

Fiona peers up at him over her glasses and waits a moment before answering. “She turned forty last month.”

“Aye? What of it?”

“Killian!” His head snaps toward the sound of his father’s voice and he sees Brennan smile. “Good to see you, my boy. Come, we’ll speak in my office.”

The tall, glass windows in his father’s office overlook the docks below, and Killian feels a wave of calm wash over him at the view. The sight of the waves has always soothed him; however, he knows the reason Brennan had the windows installed was so he could keep an eye on his workers.

_“I always know what’s going on in my company.”_

“Did you truly terminate Gail due to her age?”

Brennan scoffs while pouring two glasses of whiskey.

“Killian, I’m not a monster! Anyone with eyes could tell the woman was tired. I offered her early retirement with a more than adequate pension.”

He’s handed the glass, and though he feels deep down there is another reason, he keeps his thoughts to himself.

“Now,” Brennan sits down in his large leather chair and folds his hands in front of him, “What can I do for you, Killian? I thought we were to meet later for the gala?”

“Aye,” he sits up in his seat, “We were, but I was hoping—”

“Stop fidgeting, boy!” Brennan huffs. “You’ll wrinkle your pants.”

Raising up slightly, he adjusts himself before moving the glass to his lips, stopping when his father berates him.

“Not _yet_ , Killian! Bloody hell, you must let the alcohol _breathe_!”

His eyes close briefly before he gives a tight lipped smile and places the glass on his knee.

“Father, there’s something that—”

Brennan once again cuts him off, clicking the mouse for his computer before turning the screen to face him. “Have you seen the photos from the gallery opening earlier? The press loves you!”

With a light chuckle, he shakes his head. “The press loves the fact that you donated money to a struggling gallery.”

There’s a wolfish smile that spreads across his father’s face before he lifts his glass in cheers.

“And I love the coverage it gets me.”

The whiskey burns the back of his throat, but not in a good way. Truthfully, he’s more partial to rum, however, rum is not the type of libation fit enough for Jones men, according to his father.

Clearing his throat, he places the glass on the desk and starts again.

“Father, you know I’m finishing my final year of schooling next month—” Brennan eyes turn bright and Killian feels the nervousness suddenly wash away. Honestly, he’s unsure as to what he was so nervous about. Surely his father will understand, that’s what family does. “—and I wanted to speak to you about my future.”

“I’m glad you came to me about this.”

“Aye?”

Brennan nods as he leans forward.

“I want you to be the new face of Jones Shipping, Inc.”

Killian blinks.

“ _What_?”

“The gallery was a test run, to see how the press would react to you and if this—” he motions back to the computer. “—isn’t a perfect example of _exactly_ what I’d hoped, I don’t know what is. I’m telling you, with your face all over the posters and ads, our stock will skyrocket.”

Still slightly stunned, he reaches up to scratch the back of his ear and shrugs.

“I, uh, well, I hadn’t really thought of it.”

“It’s time you should! You’re not getting younger, you know, and it’s a known fact people like people who look good, and son, you do! Think of all the good it will do for the business, and not to mention your personal life! Women will beg to be with you while men beg to _be_ you. What better life is there to lead?”

He almost tells him of his own plan for his future when Brennan motions again to the screen.

“I’ve received five emails from modeling agencies since the story hit requesting you to model for them. Now, I’ve lined up a few interviews next week just to see what they are offering—”

“Liam is visiting next week,” Killian cuts in. “The three of us are supposed to go to the cabin.”

Brennan shakes his head, his eyes still on the screen.

“He’s cancelled.” His brow furrows, his gaze moving over to Killian for a quick moment, then back to the computer. “Did I not tell you?”

Killian’s hands clench into fists as he struggles to keep his emotions in check.

“No… you did not.”

Three times Liam has promised to visit and three times he’s cancelled at the last minute. He hasn’t seen his brother in over a year, has barely spoken to him save for a few phone conversations that lasted barely ten minutes before he was ushered off the phone, and it confuses the hell out of him.

He and Liam were so close growing up. With Brennan always working, they only had each other and would spend most of their time together. Now, he can count the number of times they’ve spoken since the holidays on one hand.

“Phoned two days ago,” he waves it off and takes another sip from his glass. “So, what do you think?”

Breathing through his nose, Killian asks, “What do I think about what?”

“Meeting with the modeling agencies? I’ll schedule the interviews for after your lessons.”

Killian downs the rest of his drink and cracks his neck.

“Did Liam say why he wasn’t coming?”

Brennan rolls his eyes before standing and walking around the desk to take Killian’s glass.

“He did not.”

“It’s just… this is the third time—”

“Killian, you know your brother doesn’t speak to me on such matters. He phones when he wants something and that’s about it.”

With a frown, Killian scratches the back of ear.

“I’m just not understanding what his aversion is to us? It’s been nearly three years since he moved away…”

“Since he _abandoned_ us, son, don’t forget that. He left without a care and barely comes to visit even though we are always reaching out to let him know he is more than welcome.” Brennan sighs and shakes his head. “How I could have ever raised a son to be so unloving of his family I’ll never know.”

Though it’s weakened some, the urge to defend his brother’s honor still sparks somewhere deep inside of him, but he bites it back.

“Perhaps we can offer to visit him after my schooling finishes? I’ve never been to France, and you’re always saying what a beautiful country it is.”

Brennan lifts the crystal tumbler and gives a scoffing laugh.

“And allow him the opportunity to slam the door in our faces? No, I think not.”

“We don’t know that he will,” Killian offers. “Then we can force him to talk to us and explain why he—”

“Enough!” Brennan hollers, slamming the tumbler down onto the bar before turning to Killian, his eyes almost black with rage. “Liam _chose_ to leave this family. He walked out on his own free will… _abandoned_ you, his own brother, without so much as a goodbye or a note, and you two were so incredibly close!” He takes a deep breath. “I’ve done my share of begging when it comes to Liam. I begged him not to leave, and not because of me, but because of _you_. I knew what his leaving would do to you—he didn’t listen. He broke your heart and that’s… well, that’s something I’ll never forgive him for.”

His father’s voice is laced with sorrow, regret… emotions that Killian rarely ever hears, but his face—his eyes in particular—tell a very different story.

A story Killian’s not sure he wants to know.

“You’re eighteen years old, Killian,” Brennan starts again, softer this time. “You’re in the prime of your life. You’re never going to be this young and this attractive ever again. Embrace it… cherish it… and forget about Liam. He’s chosen his path, now it’s time for you to choose yours.”

* * *

**March – 2015**

Using all of his upper body strength, Killian finishes his last pull up with a small grunt and drops to the ground. Music plays loudly in the background as he walks over to the full-length mirror to inspect himself. There’s a light layer of sweat covering his skin, making the hair on his chest seem darker while the muscles in his biceps twitch ever so slightly.

He’d balked at his fitness trainer when he was given the new workout, his arms were fine, but now that he sees how much more sculpted they’ve become in just a month’s time, he feels he may need to thank the man.

_Hardly_.

It’s just as he turns off the music that he hears the doorbell ring. An irritated sigh passes his lips because he knows he’s going to have to get it. Whenever Rose is on vacation, his father expects _him_ to pick up the slack.

Throwing the towel around his neck, he pulls open the door to find a young woman—early twenties, he would guess—holding a garment bag off to the side.

“Hello.”

Her mouth pops open, her eyes going wide as they slowly move down to his chest, and he bites his lip. She’s cute, with her red hair tied up in a tight bun and her thick glasses, so it’s only fair he allows her to gawk at him for a moment before he clears his throat.

“Can I help you, lass?”

The pink that rises to her cheeks when she realizes she’s been caught staring is something he expects, and he almost laughs at the way she shakes her head slightly.

“Y-y-y—” she clears her throat. “—yes. I’m here to drop off Mr. Jones’ suit from the dry cleaner.”

His head tilts, because he knows those types of errands are usually done by Fiona’s assistant, Jill. Opening the door fully, he rewards her with a wide smile and motions to the closet on the left. He watches with feigned interest as she moves past him before she suddenly stops, her brows furrowing as she tries to figure out which closet he’s referring to.

Deciding to give the girl a break, Killian blows out a soft whistle and nods to the closet closest to the door. Her sigh of thanks makes him silently chuckle, and he bites back the urge to help as she shoves the garment bag into the closet, the gentlemen in him never wishing to see a lady struggle. However, knowing his father, the second that doorbell rang, he brought up the security camera, and Killian doesn’t feel like listening to him make comments for the rest of the night about _helping_ the help.

“Thank you,” she sighs, brushing her hands down the front of her tight skirt. “Have a nice evening.”

Killian steps back, once again opening the door for her, and just as she’s about to walk past him, he says, “I didn’t catch your name, love.”

She turns back to him, her blush growing darker as she pushes her glasses up.

“Aslynn.”

“What a beautiful name.” Her lips part. “I’m—”

“Killian Jones,” she finishes for him, and when he raises an eyebrow, she wrings her hands together and breathes out, “You’re Brennan’s son.”

“Ah,” he grins, folding his arms across his chest, “So you’ve heard of me?”

“Of course,” she bites her bottom lip, “Your pictures are all over the company newsletters.”

“Well, I am devilishly handsome,” he smirks and her giggle isn’t surprising, neither is the small gasp that escapes when he steps closer to take her hand and bring it to his lips. “Lovely to meet you, Aslynn.”

The dazed look in her eyes as she backs out of the flat is one he’s become all too familiar with, and he chuckles in the back of his throat as he closes the door.

_Too easy._

“Must you work your charm on all of my employees, son?” Brennan asks as he walks into the kitchen.

Rolling his eyes, Killian moves to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water.

“I thought I was to play nice with anyone that crosses my path?”

“Aye,” Brennan nods, his voice dripping with amusement. “But allow the lass some time to get her brain working before you move in for the kill.”

Leaning back against the counter, Killian keeps his mouth shut about how there would be no _moving in for the kill_ anymore—that’s a conversation for a later time.

“What happened to Jill?”

Brennan picks up the mail laid out on the counter and begins to flip through it as he replies, “Fiona let her go two weeks ago.”

“Why?”

“She put on some weight.”

The water bottle he’s lifting to his lips stops and his brow furrows.

“Didn’t she just have a child?”

“Aye… but she was a big-boned girl to begin with, so, Fiona got rid of her.”

What surprises Killian the most is that he’s _still_ surprised, even taken aback. It’s not the first time they’ve dismissed an employee due to the way they looked—the harbor master was forced to retire early after an accident on the docks that left him with a scar running down his face—though it’s still a little hard to swallow.

“Has your suit been picked up from the tailor’s yet?”

Downing the rest of the water, he tosses the bottle into the bin and pulls the towel from around his neck.

“Smee should be dropping it off any moment.”

Brennan’s face contorts in disgust as he shakes his head. “Honestly, I don’t know why you employ that man. He’s ghastly. What do you suppose others think when they see you together?”

A surge of annoyance rushes through him and he places his hands on the cool countertop.

“Do you think people are looking at _him_ when we walk through the door?”

The smirk on his father’s face is almost devilish and he shrugs.

“He does have a way of making you shine even brighter, doesn’t he?” Killian foregoes an answer, choosing instead to pick up his towel and head for the washroom when his father calls out to him. “I almost forgot, you remember Constance O’Hara, correct?”

Of course he remembers her, she’s a lonely house wife of one of the investors in his father’s company that takes great pleasure in brushing her hands against him when no one is looking.

“Aye?”

“Well, a new shipping dock has just become available in America. It’s located in a small town in Maine and I want to purchase it, but I’ll need Adam’s investment to get started. He’s there now looking it over and is unable to attend the Charity Ball tonight.”

Killian shakes his head. “So what do you need from me?”

Brennan turns to him with a smile and pats him on the shoulder.

“I’ve told her you’d keep her company.”

It’s a struggle to keep the fury he feels raging inside of him in check. For nine years he’s played the part his father had laid out for him perfectly and without hesitation, and though it does have its perks—it’s amazing what one could get away with when they have a face such as his—things have changed.

When he doesn’t answer right away, Brennan turns to him with his eyebrow raised and places his hand on the counter.

“Is there a problem?”

The memory of thick, brown hair and soft skin flashes before his eyes, and he bites the inside of his cheek. For a long while he’s wished to tell his father about his newfound happiness, has even imagined how his face would be.

No doubt there would be shock at first—who ever thought Killian Jones would fall in love—but he knows happiness would soon follow, because, though some people believe Brennan Jones to be heartless, he _did_ love Killian’s mother at one time, which means he would understand that his son has found love on his own.

However, every time he’s plucked up the nerve, he hears a whispered voice in the back of his head…

_“Not yet, darling. We must wait until it’s the best time.”_

“No,” Killian answers, his tone clipped. “No problem.”

“Good,” Brennan responds, turning to leave the kitchen before stopping. “Oh, your brother called. I told him you were busy, and he said if you wished to speak with him to give him a ring back.”

* * *

Killian sits on the edge of his bed in his slacks with his white shirt undone, staring at the phone in his hand. He hasn’t spoken to Liam since he called two days after his birthday the month prior. He claimed he tried to reach him the day of, that father wasn’t answering his phone calls, but Killian didn’t believe him.

Brennan would have told him if Liam phoned like he always does because for some reason unbeknownst to him, his brother never calls him on his own phone, he always goes through their father.

_“It’s because he’s always asking for something, Killian.”_

Shaking his head, he grumbles at himself to stop being a coward and dials Liam’s number. He hates the way his heart clenches as the phone rings because he’s never sure if he will—

_“Hello?”_

He sits up straight.

“Liam?”

_“Killian?”_

He wipes his sweaty palm across his thigh and clears his throat, “Aye... father said you phoned?”

_“I did,”_ Liam’s voice is slow and hesitant. _“I guess you’ve been a bit preoccupied.”_ Killian’s brow furrows, though he doesn’t say anything. _“How are you?”_

“I’m well… we have a Charity Ball to attend tonight, so, I’m… getting ready.”

_“Another chance for Brennan to sweet talk investors?”_

Clenching his fist, Killian closes his eyes briefly and takes a calming breath. His brother has never kept quiet about his distaste for their father’s choices concerning the company. Liam believes he’s dishonoring their mother’s memory, while Brennan says he’s preserving it.

“Can we not do this now?”

_“If you insist.”_ There’s an awkward pause before he hears Liam clear his throat. _“How is work?”_

“It’s, uh, it’s f-fine. They’ve written an article about me.”

_“Oh?”_

“Aye, some sort of good looking men under thirty… _thing_.”

Liam sighs. _“Is that all they are interested in, your looks?”_

A flush of anger pokes at him, but he stabs it down.

“No,” he clips. “They asked me all sort of things—what I do to relax, where I see myself in ten years… favorite childhood memories…”

He trails off, remembering the answer he gave them. It’s the one where he first learned to fish; he was ten and Liam was fifteen. He taught him all the ins and outs and never once became agitated or angry, even when he had to show him how to bait his hook multiple times. They spent hours out on the lake, and when Killian’s line finally got a hit, Liam was the one that helped him reel it in.

It had been the perfect day.

_“When does it release?”_

“Um, it… today.”

_“Today? I’ve not gotten an alert… what time?”_

Killian mumbles, “Five… you have alerts set for me?”

_“Of course. I don’t wish to miss anything.”_

The words are on the tip of his tongue— _you wouldn’t bloody miss anything if you were here_ —but he holds them back, instead asking him about his life. They fall into conversation easily, and Killian’s reminded just how much he misses his brother.

Without the shadow of their father lingering over them, there is no tension, there is no worry about saying the wrong thing or upsetting anyone. They just… _talk_.

Liam tells him about his paintings and how he’s been able to sell a few.

“You’ve always been talented, Liam,” Killian mumbles with a smile. “You get that from mum.”

His eyes flicker over to the picture of his mother sitting on his nightstand, and he feels the all too familiar ache in his chest when he thinks of her. It’s been years since he’s spoken of her, their father being so heartbroken over losing her, he refuses to mention her or have things around that remind him of her. To this day, he’s forbidden from listening to his mother’s favorite band, The Beatles, and the picture he has must be hidden every time his father comes into his room.

_“Aye… well, it’s not as if I’ll go down in history for it, but it does help us keep a nice savings.”_

Killian realizes what his brother just said. “Us? Have you’ve found someone?”

_“Uh, I… I have.”_

“You pillock, why haven’t you said? Who is the lucky lass?”

Liam is silent for a brief moment before he clears his throat. _“Enough about me, what of you? Don’t tell me there isn’t someone special in your life?”_

Killian looks down to his lap, the urge to spill everything hitting him like a bag of bricks. As far as he knows, the only people who know about the relationship are Smee, himself, and Milah.

Milah.

He sighs at just the thought of her name. They met six months prior at another charity event when he came to her rescue after some drunken buffoon spilled his drink on her lap. She was older and married, but he was taken with the adventure in her eyes.

It started out completely innocent. During the next three events they attended, they would simply shy away from the crowd to flirt in a corner until the night of the masked ball when they shared a kiss.

They’ve been lovers ever since.

“Aye,” he murmurs. “There is.”

It’s as if a weight lifts from his chest the second he admits the truth, and the joy in his brother’s voice is one he’s been longing for. The questions come in rapid succession, one after another, with not enough time for Killian to answer them all, but he doesn’t care.

He tells Liam about Milah and the way she makes him feel, and it’s unconsciously that he mentions her certain… _situation._

_“What do you mean she’s married?”_

“It’s, uh, it’s a minor setback,” Killian explains.

_“A setback?”_ Liam balks. _“I’m sure her husband would disagree.”_

With a huff, he runs his hand through his hair and shakes his head.

“He’s never there for her, Liam. She’s alone and stuck in an arranged marriage she wanted no part of. She would have left him years ago if she had a place to go.”

_“And now she does?”_

“Sort of.” His brother makes a little grunt and Killian rolls his eyes. “She’s merely waiting for the right time. He’s just bought stock in a major company, and if she leaves him now he will take everything from her out of spite.”

_“If she has you, what else could she possibly need?”_

Killian’s mouth slams shut because his brother has just voiced the same question he’s been asking Milah for months.

Clearing his throat, he mumbles the answer she’s given him, “She’s use to a certain lifestyle… and she doesn’t wish to burden me with—”

Liam’s growl cuts him off.

_“You mean she’s waiting to see if father is going to make you head of the company!”_

He snaps back, his brother’s words starting a fire of fury deep within his stomach and takes a deep breath. “That’s not how it is.”

_“Right,”_ Liam chuckles, darkly. _“Let me guess, she’s never outright said it, but she’s mentioned it a bit, has she not?”_ Killian blinks, his mouth falling open as Liam continues. _“Just mentions here and there about how you’ll be much happier once you’re in control or how she just knows how wonderful your future is.”_

Killian’s jaw ticks as he starts to slightly sway back and forth.

“It was a hypothetical discussion. She doesn’t care if I leave the business or not!”

_“I’m sure she doesn’t.”_

The anger bubbles and he stands, pacing back and forth in an attempt to keep himself calm.

“If the only reason she was with me was because she believed I’d take over the company, why did she suggest I leave, hm? Three interviews with modeling agencies—”

_“Oh, so it’s all about your looks, then? Older woman wishes to cash in on her much younger lover and use him for his pretty face? Just like father!”_

The rage hits its peak and he can feel his body start to shake. He’s learned over the years there are many things he can handle—Liam abandoning him without explanation, his father’s insistence on making him the face of the company when he wanted to build his own future, being unable to make his own decisions since the age of sixteen, being gawked at like a piece of meat—but _this_ , his brother judging the one thing he’s done on his own… no, this he cannot handle.

“What the _fuck_ do you know about anything, huh, _brother_?” He spits out, his fingers tightening around the phone.

_“I know enough that—”_

“You don’t know a bloody thing!” Killian cuts him off with a hiss, “You left, Liam, which means you haven’t the faintest clue as to what’s going on!” Liam attempts to cut in, but he doesn’t allow it. “Do you think you’re better than me, is that it? Well, you’re wrong! You can only _dream_ to have the life I have. Everything I’ve ever wanted is laid out before me… women fall to their knees for me when I walk into a room, and you’ll never know what that’s like!”

_“There’s more to life than looks, Killian!”_

“And what would you know about that? Holed up in some bleeding cottage selling paintings until that runs dry and you call father for a hand out? Oh, you are so much better than me!”

_“I’ve never once—”_

“Milah _loves_ me, Liam, and I her! We’re _going_ to be together, and I don’t care how you feel about it, because the truth is… I stopped seeking your approval the moment you stepped out that door.”

There’s a pause, the only sound coming from the harsh breaths passing his lips before Liam finally speaks.

_“If that’s how you feel…”_

“Aye,” Killian answers. “It is. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an event to get to where I happen to be a guest of honor. Look out for those alerts, dear brother, I’m sure they’ll keep you busy while your paint dries.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before he takes his phone and throws it against the wall.

* * *

It’s just after five when Killian steps outside to catch his limo. The anger from his phone call with Liam is still boiling within, but he channels it into smiling for the young ladies who are requesting a picture.

With each click and each flash from each camera, he makes sure to deliver his most handsome smile, and when they rush off, they leave with praises on their lips of how much they adore him.

_Only like me for my looks, ‘ey, brother?_

Smee opens the limo door from him, but just as he’s about to slide in he catches sight of the man who is the source of all his problems.

Milah’s husband.

He’s also just what Killian needs at the moment... a little pick me up, because there’s nothing that makes him feel better quite like putting down the husband of the woman he’s with.

“I’ll be a moment,” he mumbles.

“Sir!” Smee calls out to him. “We really must—”

He holds his hand up, effectively shutting his assistant down—he knows better than to question him—and walks forward.

“Mr. Gold!” Killian calls out in a fake, pleasant voice. “What a happy surprise!”

The older man’s face shows a hint of annoyance as he tucks his cane under his arm while pulling his leather gloves on.

“What can I do for you, lad?”

Killian’s jaw ticks. The way the man speaks to him— _lad_ —as if he’s some prepubescent boy makes his skin crawl.

“Just wanted to say hello… you’ll be joining us this evening, will you not?”

Finished with his gloves, Gold places his cane back on the ground and gives a small nod.

“Yes, we will be there.”

Feigning innocence, Killian’s brows raise, “Oh, will your lovely wife be attending?”

Of course, he already knows that she is—he phoned her before he left his flat where they ended their conversation with whispered words of love.

Gold eyes him for a moment and Killian simply smirks.

“She’s my _wife_ , of course she will be attending.”

Killian’s smirk widens. “How lovely.” The older man narrows his eyes and Killian motions back to his limo. “I’ll see you there, Mr. Gold.”

Turning back, he has to bite his tongue to keep from snickering when there’s the sound of something slapping against the pavement, and just as he’s about to look to see what it is, he hears Smee yell out to him.

“Sir, look out!”

Killian looks up just in time to see a man on a bicycle heading right to him.

“Bloody hell!”

He jumps back with enough time not to get knocked over, but not enough time to avoid the front of his suit getting splashed with muddy water. Smee comes running up, his voice frantic as he checks him over while Killian curses under his breath.

“Careful, dearie,” Gold calls out, making both Smee and Killian look to him. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to that pretty face of yours.”

His lips tug up into a sneer, and he watches as Gold gets into his town car and drives off.

“Sir, you’re going to have to change. If you show up looking like this your father will—”

The growl he lets out cuts off his short, round friend, and he stomps back to his building. He can already feel the fabric sticking to his skin. The longer the mud sits, the harder the stain will be to get out.

“Bloody wanker,” he grumbles to himself, attempting to wipe the mud off. “Did he not see me standing there?”

“Sir,” Smee starts, his voice unsettling. “I saw what happened. The man on the bike was nowhere near you and then it was like something pulled him in your path. He had no choice on the matter.”

Killian gives a sigh, “Honestly, Mr. Smee, not this again.”

Since the moment Smee clapped eyes on Gold, even before Killian and Milah started their affair, he’s gone on and on about how the elderly man is rumored to be some sort of warlock. He’s told countless stories of men who tried to wrong him and paid a hefty price in return.

“It’s even said he’s older than he looks,” Smee whispers as they walk into his flat, almost like he’s scared the man might hear him somehow. “Though I’m not sure how that is possible.”

“Because it’s not!” Killian snorts, undoing his tie. “He’s just a _man_ , there’s no such thing as magic or warlocks.”

“Then how do you explain all the things that have happened?”

Shrugging his coat off, he rolls his eyes. “Embellished stories told by men such as yourself?” Smee takes the coat and he begins to undo his belt. “Don’t you think if he were up to such things Milah would know about it?”

There’s a pause before Smee simply shakes his head.

“Interfering with that man is dangerous… stick to my mantra, steer clear of the witch.”

Pulling his new slacks up, he shrugs. “Well we won’t have to worry about him much longer, as soon as Milah leaves.”

Smee squirms on his feet before asking in a mumble, “And you’re going to just wait around for whenever that is?”

His hard gaze snaps over to his assistant, making the man’s eyes widen in fear. While he would normally wave Smee’s concerns off, the anger from his conversation earlier with Liam still lingers, and though he’s not as strict as his father when it comes to the people that work for him, Smee knows better than to comment on his relationship with Milah.

“Please tell me how this is any of your concern?”

“Sir, I was just—”

“You were just _nothing_. Need I remind you, Mr. Smee, that I _employ_ you, rather generously, I might add, which means the only time you _just_ is when I demand it!” he growls, stepping into the man’s personal space and ignoring the way he cowers in fear. “My actions are my own, question them again at your peril.”

* * *

No matter how hard Killian tries to let go of his anger, it follows him throughout the night. And he finds himself taking it out on those around him on more than one occasion.

And why shouldn’t he? He’s Killian Jones, people should bend over backwards to please him.

“Killian, sweetheart,” Constance purrs, her right hand slowly moving down his back. “Would you mind terribly refilling my drink? It seems I’ve reached the _bottom_.”

She palms his rear and gives it little squeeze, making him grind his teeth before forcing a smile.

“Of course, milady.”

Her lips press to his cheek in thanks, and he doesn’t miss the way she attempts to turn his head to catch his lips. The woman could never keep her hands to herself, and with her husband not around, it seems she’s gotten worse.

Pushing his way through the crowd, he walks up to the bar, snaps his fingers to get the bartender's attention—he doesn’t wait to be serviced—and orders the drink. For a brief moment, he ignores the voice in his head and allows his eyes to flicker over to the corner of the ballroom, his shoulders stiffening at what he sees.

Milah’s tucked into her husband’s side, the picture of a doting wife as she laughs at something he whispers in her ear. Seeing her hands on him makes Killian’s skin crawl and when he sees Milah kiss him, he’s blinded with rage. He wishes for nothing more than to storm over there and snatch her away—she belongs with _him_ , not that ghastly man—but he can’t.

She’s not his. Not completely, not yet.

He tosses the glass onto the bar in anger, causing it to shatter. When the bartender attempts to berate him, he simply throws a glare, effectively shutting the man up—because what’s the point of being Killian Jones if he can’t silence people with a simple look.

He needs a distraction, something to keep him from walking over to them—

“Are you looking for the bathroom?”

The soft voice echoes off the walls of the hall he’s turned down and his steps falter.

“I’m sorry?”

She gives a small smile and tucks a strand of her curly, strawberry blonde hair behind her ear.

“It’s just… well… this hall is pretty confusing, and I thought…”

His eyebrow quirks up as she trails off, and he smiles, because the distraction he was looking for has just stepped into his path.

“Actually…” He starts softly, pausing until he’s close enough to smell her perfume, “I was in search of a beautiful woman, and I found you. It seems fate is in my favor tonight.

“Oh!” Her gasp is followed by a small giggle, and it’s the only invitation he needs.

“And just who did fate bring to me?” He purrs, his tongue poking out to lick at his bottom lip.

The woman blushes, her fingers tightening around her clutch as she sways back and forth. Her reaction to him is one he’s all too familiar with. She tells him her name—though it doesn’t much matter—and he moves a step closer, reaching up to twirl a piece of her hair around his finger.

“What a beautiful name,” he murmurs, his eyes moving to her lips, “I’m Killian Jones.”

Her pupils dilate, and he smirks as she brushes the back of her knuckles on the lapel of his jacket. Like all the others, she’s melting to his undeniable charm, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before she’s begging to spend the night with him.

Biting her lip, she nods, “I know who you are.”

He trails his fingers down her arm, not at all surprised when her breath hitches, and presses his thumb to the pulse point on her wrist.

“Would you care to get to know me better, lass?”

She opens her mouth to agree—he just _knows_ it—but stops when a voice comes from behind them.

“What do we have here?”

Breathing through his nose, his eyes close briefly as he curses under his breath.

_Bloody fantastic._

“M-Mrs. Gold,” the girl squeaks as she steps away from him. “I’m sorry, we were—”

Milah raises her brow with an amused look on her face.

“I’m well aware of what you were about to do, sweetheart. Killian has many charms, does he not?”

His eyes narrow at her, the memory of her kissing that pillock she calls a husband still fresh in his mind. The young lass stutters out a reply, making Milah chuckle.

“Run along, child. Killian and I need to have a little talk.”

The girl looks back and forth between them before slinking out of the hall. Once she’s gone, they both stay silent, the air thick with tension as they stare at each other. He wants to yell, how _dare_ she make a fool of him like this, and he wants to demand her to make her decision—it’s either him or her husband, but as always, he does nothing.

And it’s in that moment that Liam’s words echo in his brain.

_“You mean she’s waiting to see if father is going to make you head of the company!”_

That couldn’t be why she’s waiting to leave her husband… She’s told him she loves him, and though he’s loathe to admit it, Gold _is_ a powerful man. It’s only wise that she secures a plan first.

“Did you have fun with that little girl?”

He snorts, shaking his head before leaning back against the wall.

“Apologies, I was unaware you knew that I existed, you seemed so _blissfully_ happy.”

She sighs and brushes a strand of hair away from her face before squaring her shoulders.

“He’s my _husband_ , Killian. You know the role I must play.”

Looking down at his feet, he ignores the ache in his chest and presses his lips together.

“For how much longer?”

“For however long it takes. What’s gotten into you?”

Oh, if she only knew. He woke up that morning feeling confident and empowered. Joy had buzzed through him, because he knew they were to spend the night together after being forced to spend time apart. Now he’s unsure of everything due to Liam’s words and Smee’s cut off question.

Letting out a deep sigh, he reaches up to loosen his tie and clips, “It’s been six months, Milah, surely you’ve had enough—”

“Stop doing that to your tie! There are reporters out there and your father will have a fit!”

His mouth falls open at her tone, and before he can move to fix it, she huffs and steps forward to do it herself.

Her scent surrounds him—jasmine—and he’s reminded of how much he’s missed it. Forcing the voices in his head to stay quiet, he lifts his hands to grasp her waist, only to be denied as she steps out of his reach.

“We’re discussing this tonight,” he whispers through clenched teeth.

“Don’t pull a stunt like that again,” she advises, completely ignoring his statement while brushing something off the front of his jacket. “Now get back out there. I heard your father asking where you went off to.”

With wide eyes, he watches as she turns away and calls out to her, because though he wants an answer, he will _not_ chase after her.

_“The Jones men do not chase after women!”_

“Milah… Milah!”

But she doesn’t answer, just continues off toward the bathroom, her hips swaying seductively as he blinks in surprise.

Though it’s been a while, it’s not the first time he’s inquired about their future, and not _once_ has she ever ignored him. Given answers that really weren’t answers? Yes, every time, but she had never ignored them… and it only adds fuel to the fire within him

Cracking his neck to relieve some of his tension, he pushes himself off the wall with a growl and stomps back into the great room. Instead of looking for his father, he heads straight for the bar. He can practically feel his body vibrating with anger as his brother’s words continue to haunt him.

Normally, he can shake off the doubt. They love each other, who cares what anyone else thinks, but this time, he’s having trouble.

He snatches the tumbler of rum as soon as the bartender places it down and swallows it in one gulp before ordering another.

“There you are.” A hand slides up his back and he looks to his right to find the girl from the hall smiling up at him. “I was starting to think we missed our chance.” Her hand moves up to his shoulder, but he catches it before it can go any further.

She asks him what’s wrong just as the bartender brings his second drink. He picks it up before turning toward her.

Feigning boredom, he rolls his eyes and asks, “And who are you?”

She blinks, the confusion and hurt clear on her face at being blown off, but he just can’t seem to find it in him to care as he walks off.

The night is over for him. He’ll find his father and leave for the hotel.

It’s best to get his anger in check before Milah shows up.

“You’re losing control, dearie. Taking your anger out on an innocent girl.”

His eyes close and his jaw clenches at the sound of the old man’s voice.

_Of bloody course, because my night isn’t going badly enough._

“She’ll live,” Killian mutters, walking around the man and fighting the urge to bump him with his shoulder.

“You think I don’t see you, my boy, but I do.”

Hiding his confusion, he continues to walk and says, “Well it’s always nice to make an impression.”

“And I know you know my wife.”

“I know many a man’s wife,” he calls over his shoulder.

“She likes you better than the others, I’ll give you that.”

He stops, cracking his neck before turning around with a smirk on his face.

“What can I say—,” he holds his arms out with a smile. “—women are just naturally drawn to me.”

Gold’s lip turns up into a sneer. “Stay away from her.”

His eyes go wide with humor. There was always a part of him that wondered if Gold knew… they’ve spent an obscene amount of time together, and though he’s always made sure to put the hotels they stay at under his name, she never hides her vehicle and always uses her regular phone to contact him.

Which is quite often because she likes to know where he is and what he’s doing.

A man would have to be blind not to notice that his wife is seeking attention elsewhere, but then again, Milah has always told him her husband never truly cared what she did.

“And what’s going to happen if I don’t?” Gold’s fingers drum over the hilt of his cane, but he doesn’t say anything. “That’s what I thought, old man.”

Turning to leave, he stops again when Gold gives a dry chuckle.

“Old man?” He shakes his head as his fingers tighten around the cane. “Looks are rather important to you, aren’t they?”

Shifting his weight to his left foot, Killian shrugs, “They are important to everyone… except for you—” He motions with his glass to the man’s green suit and vest that reminds Killian of animal skin “— _clearly_.” He looks him over with disgust, shaking his head. “Honestly, why would she want to be with someone who looks like you when she could be with someone who looks like me?”

“She’ll see you for what you truly are,” Gold hisses. “I’ll make sure of it. And once she does, that spell she has you under will break.”

With a low growl, he pushes himself until he’s in the older man’s face.

“We both know the only spell that’s been cast is the one I’ve done on your wife.” Gold’s eyes darken, and Killian smirks in victory. “Now run along, _crocodile_ , and do try not to break a hip.”

* * *

The dull ache in his head starts around the time of his father’s second scolding. “She was standing there all alone!” Brennan hisses through his fake smile. “I told her you would keep her company and you just vanished!”

Blinking to rid himself of his headache, Killian sighs, “I told you, I simply went to—”

“I don’t care where you went!” His father growls. “You weren’t where you were supposed to be… now you’re going to go over to Constance, and you’re going to apologize and be more charming than you’ve _ever_ been.”

His brow starts to sweat, and he pulls at his collar as the thumping in his head gets worse with every moment that passes.

“Aye, perhaps first I can—”

“And when she invites you back to her flat for drinks, you are going to go!”

He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “Father, I have plans…”

Brennan gives a wave to someone before he turns to Killian, a hard look on his face.

“I don’t bloody care what plans you have! You will cancel them, and you will take Constance back to her flat and do whatever you must to ensure she’s happy.”

There’s a ringing sound and he reaches up to press his palm against his ear.

“I don’t feel so well.”

His father rolls his eyes and shoves his shoulder with an order to find Constance. Stumbling forward, Killian’s stomach starts to turn, and for a quick moment he fears he’ll vomit right there in the middle of the ballroom.

A bead of sweat runs down the back of his neck as he pushes himself through the crowd. Leaning against a pillar, he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath. He feels dizzy, close to fainting, and his eyes squeeze shut.

“Mate,” he hears a voice start to his left, “you don’t look so good. Are you okay?”

Shaking his head, Killian pushes himself forward and runs out the first door he finds, sucking in a gulp of fresh air. With his head in his hands, he swallows down the urge to vomit and wills the pain to cease. It’s all too much, the earth feels as if it’s flipping upside down, and he—

“Problem, dearie?”

Killian’s head snaps to his left and his jaw clenches when he sees Gold standing there, his hands resting on the cane in front of him.

“W-what’s happening to me?”

Gold smirks in response and tilts his head.

“Payback.”

A strangled growl escapes the back of Killian’s throat as he attempts to step forward, only to stop when he’s blinded by black spots. The pain in his head makes his knees buckle and he falls to the ground as Gold moves to crouch before him.

“Did you really think,” Gold hisses, “I would let you _steal_ her away.”

Shaking his head, he blinks to bring his vision into focus and curls his arms around his stomach.

“I didn’t—ahh!” His skin feels like it’s burning from the inside and he doubles over. “What’s happening?”

The giggle Gold gives is sickening and makes his skin crawl.

“You’ve spent your entire life getting by on your looks… imagine life without them.”

Killian shakes his head in confusion, “What?”

Gold reaches out, grabbing his left wrist with a bruising grip and holding it up. Killian’s eyes widen as he watches black streaks begin to appear, followed by red, bubbling scars. Snatching his hand away, he pushes his sleeve up and notices the marks run all the way up his body.

“‘ _Why would she want to be with someone who looks like you when she could be with someone who looks like me?’_ ” Gold repeats his words from earlier as he stands with a crooked smile on his face.

“It’s not like that!”

Gold tilts his head. “Isn’t it?”

“We’re in love!”

“Then you have nothing to worry about, dearie.”

Killian’s brow furrows, and it’s not until Gold steps aside that he catches the reflection of himself in the window.

The black streaks look like vines as they start under his shirt and up to his neck, some ending at his jaw line, curling just under his lips, while others ran all the way up to his now bald head. His face is covered in red, swollen scars, and on the bridge of his nose there is metallic stitching that seems to be embedded in his skin.

Ripping his shirt open, he looks down to find they extend all the way down, and his heart begins to pound.

“What the bloody hell did you do to me?” he screams.

“I’ve shown you who you _truly_ are and the darkness that lies within.” He slams his cane down onto the ground and Killian’s eyes widen as a cloud of black smoke surrounds them. “But I am not a cruel man. I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself. Go to Milah, prove to me she loves you, and the curse will be lifted.”

With a grunt, Killian turns to leave but stops when Gold tosses something at him. The chain slips through his fingers and he just barely grabs the pocket watch before it falls to the ground. It’s unlike any clock he’s seen; though the roman numerals are in the correct spot, instead of hands there are vines eerily similar to those now etched on his skin and in the middle, seems to be some sort of flower bud.

“I must warn you, if she doesn’t… you’ll have until that rose blooms to find someone who does, or you’ll stay this way forever.” Killian’s grip on the watch tightens as Gold’s smile widens. “Tick tock.”


	2. Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys blow me away, thank you so much for the awesome feedback from Chapter 1!! I hope you like what’s to come. :D
> 
> Shout out to initiala & idristardis for being damn amazing BETA’s. Beastly wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them. Another shout out to cocohook38 for the beautiful banner, and the amazing art from chapter1.
> 
> Please please make sure you go check out all the other stories included with this project. They are all amazing and you won’t regret it, I assure you.

**May – 2000**

Emma kneels on the floor outside the principal's office and places her drawing on the seat. Sliding her hands over it, her bottom lip starts to quiver when she realizes the wrinkles aren’t going to go away.

“Sweetie?” She looks up to see Miss Murphy standing beside her with a roll of tape in her hands. “I think if we use a bit of tape, we could fix the little rips.”

Her eyes move back to the drawing, and she hesitates before handing it to her teacher. Miss Murphy walks to the main desk and Emma quickly pushes herself up to follow. Though she’s too short to see what she’s doing, she stands on her tippy toes to try anyway.

Miss Murphy rips off three pieces of tape before she places them on the drawing.

“There,” she says with a smile. “Good as new.”

Emma watches as she kneels down to her level to hand her the drawing. The paper is still crumpled, but the torn pieces are together again, and she can’t even tell where they were.

Wiping her wet cheek, she giggles, “Thank you, Miss Murphy.”

The blonde art teacher pats the top of her head and walks off just as the principal’s office door opens.

“Thank you, Mr. Dixon,” her brother, David, says while shaking the man’s hand. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

Mr. Dixon mumbles something too low for her to hear before going back into his office. David gives her a little smile and she holds her drawing against her stomach.

“Can we go now?”

With a nod, he tells her to grab her book bag and then they can go.

“I need you to promise me something, Em,” David says as they walk down the street. “I need you to promise me that you won’t get into any more fights. If you find yourself getting angry, just walk away.”

“But— “

“I mean it,” he cuts her off, his voice stern. “Mr. Dixon promised not to say anything this time, but if it happens again, he’s going to tell the Bakers and you could get expelled.”

Her brow furrows. “Expelled?”

“Kicked out,” David explains. “And I know this isn’t the best school, but it’s a lot nicer than the one you were at last year, isn’t it?”

Her nose scrunches as she remembers the bad smelling school.

“That place smelled like feet.”

David chuckles with a nod, “I know. Which is why we’re going to try our best to stay for as long as we can.”

Looking down at her feet, she mumbles, “I will. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he stops her and kneels down to look into her eyes. “It’s okay, I’m not mad. I know you’re not doing this on purpose, Emma. This type of holiday is hard for both of us.”

She shakes her head and steps forward.

“But that’s not it! I was happy in art class today, it was fun!”

David tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

She starts to squirm, and her hands begin to shake.

“Miss Murphy told everyone to draw pictures for their mommies for Mother’s Day, but she told _me_ I could draw whatever I wanted.” She holds the piece of paper out to him with a smile. “So I drew you a picture! Do you see... it’s a swan.”

David’s eyes move over the drawing and she giggles when she sees his lips pull into a wide smile.

“You drew this for me?”

She nods.

“But then Gary saw it and…”

David looks up at her and places his hand on her arm as her lip starts to quiver again. “And what?”

A tiny sob escapes her throat and she begins to cry.

“Gary said it was stupid, that I wasn’t allowed to draw you a picture because you weren’t my mommy. He said I wasn’t allowed to draw any picture because I didn’t have a mommy. I told him to shut up, I know that’s bad but he…” She gives another sob as David reaches up to wipe her cheeks. “But he was being mean and then when Miss Murphy wasn’t looking he tried to take my drawing and throw it away, so I punched him!”

He pulls her in for a hug and she squeezes her arms around his shoulders as she cries.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “It’s alright.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him, I was just so angry…” she sobs and David nods.

“I know, Em.” He pulls back and moves to wipe her face again. “I don’t want you to listen to him, okay? I know that’s hard, but he’s wrong. You can draw any picture you want.”

Taking a deep breath, she plays with the straps on her book bag and says, “Miss Murphy said that just because it’s called Mother’s Day doesn’t mean it’s just for mommies. She said that it’s for anyone that has ever loved you like a mommy would. She said that sometimes daddies are mommies, too, and aunts and uncles and even brothers…”

David smiles.

“Miss Murphy is right, and I love my picture. I’m going to put it in our secret box so no one takes it. Thank you.”

She gives another giggle when he kisses her cheek before he stands and puts the picture in his own book bag.

“David?”

“Yes?”

“Do our mommy and daddy not love us? Is that why they gave us away?”

David shakes his head. “Who told you that? Did Gary say that?” She gives a small shrug and he sighs. “They love us very much, Emma.”

“Then why do you say they won’t come back?”

“Emma…”

“I just don’t understand. If they love us, why wouldn’t they come back?” He doesn’t say anything for a long while and she tugs on his hand. “Will you please tell me the truth? Please?”

It’s just as they step in front of the Bakers’ house that David finally stops and kneels down to her again.

“How about tonight we go out for ice cream? I still have a little money left over from raking leaves, and then I’ll tell you why... Okay?”

She presses her lips together.

“You promise?”

He gives a forced smile before he nods.

“I promise.”

* * *

**February – 2004**

Emma sits on the wooden bench, her hands folded neatly in her lap to keep them from shaking. She looks over to Ingrid, her foster mother, who gives her a small smile.

“It’ll be okay, dear,” she whispers, patting her leg.

She wants to believe her, but there are so many things that have gone wrong in their lives, it’s hard not to have a bit of doubt.

She ignores Ingrid’s whisper telling her not to as she leans forward to tap her brother on the arm. She watches as he holds his hand up, silencing their lawyer, Mr. White, beside him and turning to her.

“Will you tell me one more thing about them?” she asks him.

It’s something she’s done for as long as she can remember. Whenever she’s feeling nervous, she asks her brother to tell her something about their parents and it always makes her feel better.

David smiles as he places his hand over hers. “Well,” he starts in a whisper, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Whenever mom got upset about something, dad would always try to make her feel better by singing her favorite songs, even though he was never really good at it.” Emma gives a small giggle as David chuckles and reaches forward to grasp the swan pendant that hangs around her neck. “One day, she was carrying boxes filled with decorations back up to the attic when one caught the chain of this necklace and it snapped. She was so upset because dad had just gotten it for her for Christmas. She started to cry, so dad started to sing and dance, just to get her to smile again, and it was so bad dogs started to bark outside, but by the time he was finished… mom’s smile was brighter than the Christmas tree.”

“She had a really pretty smile, didn’t she?” Emma asks in a soft voice.

“She did,” David mumbles, his eyes growing sad before he cups her face. “Something she gave to you.”

“All rise!” The officer calls out, making everyone in the room move to stand. “Case number two-zero-five, regarding the custody of minor Emma Nolan, the honorable Judge Raven is presiding.”

Emma stands, her eyes going wide as she looks to her brother, who simply winks before turning to face the front.

Once everyone is seated, Judge Raven takes a deep breath and folds her hands in front of her.

“When it comes to the children in our foster system, we try to place them with a not only suitable, but loving family, because no child deserves to grow up without one.” Ingrid wraps her arm around Emma’s shoulder as the Judge continues, “and while our first option is and always will be to place the minor with a family member first, sometimes, it’s not the best.”

Emma sucks in a breath.

“Judge Raven—”

Mr. White starts, stopping when the Judge holds up her hand.

“I understand the love your client has for his sister, Mr. White, that was never the question in this case. The question was and continues to be if he would be able to provide for her, and I’m not sure that he can.”

Mr. White is cut off again when David stands.

“Judge Raven, I have a job, as you can see in your file. I’m assistant manager at the animal hospital…”

“Mr. Nolan,” Judge Raven says with a sigh, “While your work ethic is very impressive, it is very different than taking care of a child, and your sister is only fourteen—”

“With all due respect, Judge Raven,” David cuts in, his voice dripping with a hint of anger. “I’ve been taking care of my sister since I was five years old. You people like to pretend that the foster system is a well-oiled machine, but the truth is, it isn’t. We’ve stayed with families that have forgotten to feed us, that locked us in rooms—the foster parents my sister was with before Ms. Frost broke her arm!”

Emma flinches as she’s hit with the memory of the husband twisting her arm when she tried to run from him. Her heart is pounding in her chest and her body begins to shake. David and Ingrid both tried to tell her it wasn’t a good idea that she come, but she insisted, because she’s not a little girl anymore. She could control her panic attacks.

Ingrid’s arm tightens around her and she hears the woman remind her in a whisper to breathe. If the courts find out about her panic attacks, they will blame David for hiding them from every family they’ve stayed with and she won’t ever get to live with him.

Blinking, her hands clench into fists and she closes her eyes, trying to stay calm until Ingrid whispers her name. When she opens her eyes, she sees her brother blindly holding his hand out to her from behind his back, and the second she feels his fingers wrap around hers a sense of calm washes over her.

“I’ve read the report. The Hannigan family says your sister was having one of her tantrums when she fell and broke her arm.”

David chuckles and shakes his head. “Of course they did.”

Judge Raven takes off her glasses.

“The truth of the matter is, Mr. Nolan, your sister is a very difficult child with anger management issues. She’s known for starting fights and running away—”

“Only when we are separated!” David argues. “When she’s with me, she doesn’t do any of those things and she hasn’t gotten into an ounce of trouble since moving in with Ms. Frost.”

The Judge presses her lips together and Emma sucks in a deep breath. She remembers all the times David begged her to behave, but she was too upset from being apart from him to listen. It wasn’t until she moved in with Ingrid that it got better, because Ingrid never tried to keep them apart. David visited every day after school and was even allowed to stay over on the weekends.

_“He’s your brother, Emma. He’s always welcome here.”_

“That is true.” She taps her pen against the desk, staying silent as her eyes move to Emma. “Okay, here is my ruling: I’m awarding temporary guardianship of Emma Nolan to Ms. Frost—” David tries to argue, but the judge talks over him. “—until you can prove to me that you are capable of taking care of a teenage girl. That means you will have a job, a steady income, and a proper home for you and your sister. We’ll meet back in a year’s time and reconvene.”

Emma’s eyes go wide as the judge lifts her hammer and Mr. White shoots up.

“And visitation?”

The judge shrugs.

“Visitation is at the discretion of Ms. Frost.” She looks to David with a raised eyebrow. “You have a year, Mr. Nolan.”

* * *

**September – 2006**

“Are you going to tell me what you guys have planned tonight?”

Emma looks up at her brother with wide, innocent eyes to see him leaning against her door frame, with his arms folded across his chest. He raises his eyebrow, waiting for her to answer and she clears her throat.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she looks down at the book she’s reading and shrugs, “It’s just going to be me.”

There’s a moment of silence before David says, “Well, if it’s just going to be you then it’s no big deal that I called out of work.”

Her head snaps up and her mouth falls open.

“You… _what?_ You said you couldn’t… that… that you were working…”

He shrugs. “I couldn’t, but I thought it would be funny to see you squirm.”

Letting out a tiny growl, she picks up her pillow and throws it at her brother’s head. With a chuckle, he catches it and walks into the bedroom.

“Look, Em,” he sits, and she pushes herself up onto her knees with a sigh. “I’m not going to tell you Jefferson can’t come here, you’re sixteen and you’re going to have the place to yourself, I expect it. But what I _am_ going to tell you, is that I want him out of here by eleven, he’s not allowed in your bedroom, and don’t let him talk you into anything you don’t want to do.”

Her eyes roll as she scoffs, “Do you really think I would let anyone talk me into doing something I didn’t want to do?”

His eyes are soft as his lips tug up and he lifts his hand to brush her hair away from her shoulder.

“No, I know you wouldn’t. You can take care of yourself.” She gives a shy smile before he pats her on the knee. “Have fun. I’ll be home by midnight.”

“Be careful,” she mumbles to him while he stands and presses a light kiss to the top of her head.

Moving to lay back down to read her book, she stops and looks up when he pops his head back in and says, “You sure you don’t want me to stay and have a talk with him?”

She picks up the pillow to toss at his head and he ducks out just before it makes contact.

* * *

Jefferson shows up a little after eight with popcorn and red vines. She’s more of a twizzlers girl, but she appreciates the effort.

When he came to school two months prior, he didn’t have many friends and kept to himself a lot. It was something Emma related to, so she introduced herself. He was artsy and creative—he has a binder full of clothing designs he drew up—while she liked to read books and listen to her headphones, but it worked for them. It was completely platonic at first, just hanging out during lunch and in between classes, until one day after school when he kissed her.

Her first instinct was to shove him away—who the hell did he think he was, just kissing her without permission?—but then he fumbled out an apology and admitted he’d been wanting to do it for a while.

She forgave him and a week later he asked her out on an official date.

It’s… strange, having a boyfriend. He likes to cuddle a lot and gets a little possessive at times, but it’s normal—that’s what the girls at school tell her, at least—and deep down, she so desperately wishes to be normal.

“You know, I was thinking when I was walking here that this is the first time you’ve invited me over.” His eyes move around, and she bites the inside of her cheek. It’s not the best-looking apartment there is; there’s barely enough room in the kitchen for two people, they don’t have a table, so they usually eat dinner on the couch in the living room, and while David left the bigger bedroom for her, she’s seen bathrooms with more room, but it’s their home.

Something she’s still not quite used to.

“It’s just you and your brother, right?”

Clearing her throat, she gives a small nod and says, “He’s my guardian.”

She remembers like it was yesterday, how he cheered out in happiness before picking her up to swing her around as he gave her a tight bear bug when Judge Raven awarded him sole custody. They went out for hot chocolate to celebrate and stayed up all night watching cheesy horror movies.

It was the happiest day of her life.

“It’s so cool that you guys have your own place. My parents are always harping on me, it’s annoying.”

The way he rolls his eyes and shakes his head sends a bolt of frustration through her and she bites back the urge to smack him.

Reaching up to scratch her forehead, she shrugs, “Yeah, well, our parents died, so…”

His mumbled apology does little to settle the knot in her stomach, so she presses her lips together in a forced smile, hoping for it to be an acceptable response.

Jefferson places the plastic bag he’s brought on the chair her brother _insisted_ on them buying—

_“David, this is hideous.”_

_It’s brown with yellow stitching and there’s a rip where the back meets the cushion._

_“It’s comfortable!” David argued, snuggling further into it. He reached to the side to yank the lever and it suddenly reclined back, making his eyes go wide. “Oh, yeah, we’re so buying this.”_

—and turns to her with a smile.

“You want to give me the tour?”

She almost laughs because there really isn’t much to show, but instead waves her arms out.

“Uh, well, t-this is the living room.” She turns and points to the left. “There’s the kitchen, and down that hall is the bathroom and our bedrooms.”

He steps forward and puts his hands on her hips.

“Why don’t you show me your room?”

She rolls her eyes and takes a step back, “You don’t want to see my bedroom. It’s not all that interesting.”

With a shrug, he whispers, “Why don’t you let me decide?”

A dry chuckle passes her lips and she shakes her head, “Um, no. My room, my rules. Come on, the movie is about to—” The feel of his hand grasping her left arm makes her stop and her entire body stiffens. “What are you doing?”

“I thought it’s why you invited me over?” He asks with a smile, his hand still wrapped around her arm.

Trying to step back, she mumbles, “I invited you over to watch a movie.”

“Aw, did you want to cry on my shoulder during the chick flick and let me cuddle you?”

She almost snorts because the thought of her crying is just ridiculous—she’s hasn’t cried since she was ten years old—but the all too familiar feeling of panic starts to rise inside of her and she attempts, subtly, to pull her arm back.

He doesn’t let go.

“No.” She tries again to pull and his fingers tighten. “Will you please let go of my arm?”

“What’s the big deal?”

The sound of her heart pounding fills her ears and she can feel her body start to shake. She tries to control her breathing—she’s safe, he’s not going to hurt her—and opens her mouth to ask him again to let go of her, but then he pulls her close and everything happens at once.

It’s hard to breathe, her lungs feel like they’re collapsing and black spots form in her vision. Her muscles lock, and through the static that’s echoing in her ears, she hears Jefferson.

“Holy shit, what’s going on?”

Her words get stuck in the back of her throat and she’s just barely able to choke out, “I… you… can’t—”

“Emma, you’re freaking me out!”

When he attempts to pull her close again, she finally finds the words and growls, “Let go of me!”

He drops her arm like he’s been burned, and she moves until her back hits the wall. She can feel his eyes on her, but her body continues to shake as she struggles to even her breathing.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Her eyes squeeze shut at the disgust dripping from his voice.

Sliding to the floor, she shakes her head, the memory of her arm snapping under the pressure of her foster father’s grip flashing in her mind. It’s like she’s thrust back in time, remembering exactly how hard she fought to break free, how he laughed at her pleas before he purposely twisted it until he heard the bone snap.

She takes large gulps of air, and when she feels she might be able to finally explain, Jefferson huffs, “Whatever, Em. I didn’t do anything.”

He turns to storm out and just before the door closes behind him, she hears his whispered insult.

“Freak.”

* * *

**July – 2015**

Emma sits with her back against the brick wall and her eyes closed. There’s the sound of snores to her right while two women argue to her left, but all she’s concentrating on is trying to get rid of her headache.

“Emma Nolan.” She cracks open an eye at the call of her name to see an officer standing at the bars, keys in his hand. “You’ve made bail.”

Pressing her lips together, she takes a deep breath and pushes herself up off the bench and walks forward. With each step, she feels the weight of her decision grow heavier on her shoulders and her stomach knots.

It’s just as she walks up to the desk to retrieve her belongings that she sees him. He’s standing by the door, his hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans, with a soft smile on his face.

“Do you know that man?” The officer asks as she signs the piece of paper.

“Yeah,” Emma mumbles. “He’s my brother.”

David waits until they are on the road to finally ask, “Are you alright?”

Looking down at her hands, she frowns at the black smudges on her fingertips and nods. “Yes.”

Silence falls between them again and she turns to look out the window, counting the lamp posts as they pass by. It’s been a long while since David has had to come to her rescue; he did it enough when she was younger that she vowed when she got older he’d never have to do it again… she’d save herself. Now here he is, coming out in the middle of the night to bail out his twenty-five-year-old sister from jail.

“You want to tell me what happened?”

“Does it matter?”

He sighs, and the leather on his seat rubs together as he adjusts his position.

“If you didn’t want me to know, then why did you call? You could have called Walsh.” She begins to squirm, and he eyes her. “Did you two break up?”

“Sort of.”

“He didn’t do anything, did he?”

She smiles and looks down to her lap. “No, he didn’t do anything. I broke up with him.”

“Oh.” He waits a moment before clearing his throat. “That’s too bad, I liked him.”

Snorting, she shakes her head.

“You _tolerated_ him, there’s a difference.”

“Well, I liked him a lot better than the last one.”

She brings her leg up onto the seat and turns to him with her eyebrow raised. “The only reason you didn’t like August was because he drove a motorcycle.”

David gives her a pointed look, “And the only reason you dated him was to piss me off.”

Her eyes narrow and she tilts her head. “You know, you aren’t my guardian anymore. That ended when I turned eighteen.”

“Hm, yeah,” he nods with a smile, “I remember that very well, actually. I woke up early to make you breakfast in bed and when I came into your room, you kicked at me and told me to get my annoying ass out of your bedroom.” She bites her bottom lip to hide her laugh and he chuckles. “You never were a morning person.”

“You’re lucky I only did that. I threw Walsh’s alarm clock against the wall last week.”

“Is that why you broke up with him?”

Rolling her eyes, she turns back to the front and huffs, “He suggested we move in together… I suggested we break up.”

He winces. “I can’t imagine he took that well.”

“He tried to argue with me.”

With a snort, David looks at something out the window and says, “And we all know how you feel about that.”

Her lips press together as she looks out the window in hopes to avoid having to explain herself again for what would be the billionth time. It’s something she’s never understood, allowing someone that’s not family to get under your skin in such a way that you get angry and want to argue. There’s never a solution, no one ever really wins and you’re left with your blood pumping and an anger that doesn’t go away.

David told her it’s because you care about the other person and what they think and how they feel, and you want them to understand how you think and feel. She told him it was a load of bullshit.

“It’s not like it was this big love affair,” she mumbles.

“But how do you know?” David asks, his voice soft. “Emma, you’re not going to find love if you don’t open yourself up to it.”

She snorts.

“Now you’re starting to sound like your girlfriend.”

“Fiancée, actually.” Her head snaps over toward him. “I asked her earlier at dinner and she said yes.”

Two years ago, Emma was working at some dive bar when she cut her arm open on a jagged bottle. She went to the hospital to get stitches, and that’s where she met Mary Margaret, a short, bubbly volunteer that got on her nerves at first with her upbeat attitude, but quickly grew on her.

She remembers feeling jealous at how fast Mary Margaret and her brother fell for each other, and when he asked her to help pick out a ring, she almost choked in surprise. Their entire lives, it’s always been just the two of them, never needing anyone else, and then he met Mary Margaret.

He was supposed to be like her… unable to form a connection with anyone because they would never understand why they were so guarded, so broken.

“Is that why you were calling me earlier?”

Guilt washes over her because she had been purposely ignoring his phone calls, thinking he was calling to ask why she came back to the apartment in the middle of the night instead of Walsh’s, when he was really calling to tell her he finally found the courage to ask Mary Margaret to marry him.

He scratches the back of his neck.

“I wanted to let you know… I tried Walsh, though now I understand why he was so short with me on the phone.”

Deciding to let go of her own feelings for the sake of her brother, she moves to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m so happy for you! How did you do it? Did she like the ring?”

He chuckles and pats her knee.

“How about I let her tell you all that, she’s back at the apartment, and you know Mary Margaret, she _loves_ to tell stories.”

She winces, another wave of guilt hitting her as she realizes he not only left to bail her out in the middle of the night, but he had to leave his _fiancée_ to do it.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, her eyes moving down to her lap. “I shouldn’t have called.”

His voice is low and full of concern, “I’m glad you did. What happened? Last I knew you were at the diner. Did you get into another argument with the owner?”

“I’ll find another job… there’s always something—”

“I don’t care about you finding another job, Em,” David all but growls. “I care about what happened to you, now will you please tell me?”

She runs her hand through her hair, her blonde locks feeling slick and oily under her fingertips, before resting her elbow on the door. Truth be told, she doesn’t really want to tell him, but she knows her brother, and he’s not going to stop until he has the whole truth. She starts with how the asshole owner started in on all the employees as soon as he walked through the door, yelling and bitching at them for every little thing until he made Emily so scared that she dropped and broke a plate.

“He just started screaming at her,” Emma explains, her hands clenching into fists. “It was a fucking plate! They cost, what, a couple dollars at most? I couldn’t let him do that, so I got in between them.”

David shakes his head. “He’s always been a prick. What happened then?”

Her hand moves to her left arm.

“We were screaming at each other and he fired me, and when I took my apron off and threw it at him, he grabbed my arm—”

“He did _what_?!”

“I couldn’t think… I started to have a panic attack and I just… I just punched him because he wouldn’t let me go.”

The anger radiating off her brother thickens the air in the cab. It’s not the first time something like this has happened, though it has been a while. She thought she had better control over her panic attacks, but when he wouldn’t let her go…

A shiver runs down her spin and she shakes her head.

“I don’t know if he’ll press chargers…”

“If he knows what’s good for him, he won’t,” David chuckles, darkly. “Pressing charges will open a can of worms that I don’t think he really wants opened.”

A soft laugh passes her lips and she nods, because he’s right. The way that asshole runs that place… she’s surprised he called the cops in the first place, but something tells her it was probably a customer that did it.

Silence falls between them and part of her is grateful for it. She’s well aware of what a disappointment she is to her brother—she learned that years ago. He used to talk to her about her future, about going to college and starting a career, then in one of her anger-filled rages, she snapped at him and told him it wasn’t going to happen. He never mentioned it again. She felt bad for doing it, but just because he thought about her future doesn’t mean she did. It was never something she had a clear picture of, always choosing to just take one day at a time, not bothering to look ahead.

_Too broken to worry about what happens next._

Sliding across the seat, she lays her head on her brother’s shoulder and asks in a whisper, “Tell me another thing about them?”

David drops his hand to wrap around hers and gives a small chuckle.

“They loved to dance. I would be playing with my toys and look up to find them randomly dancing, even when there was no music playing. One time, when she was pregnant with you, she pulled me up to dance with them. You kicked at her stomach the entire time and mom said you were dancing with us.”

She closes her eyes and wonders why she even asks anymore. When she was younger, stories of her parents always seemed to calm her, but she’s found they now bring nothing but pain and heartache.

“They would be proud of you, Emma,” he whispers, his hand giving hers a tight squeeze.

She doesn’t answer, choosing instead to keep her eyes on the lamp posts outside the window.

_No, they wouldn’t… they wouldn’t at all._

* * *

**January – 2018**

It’s just after four in the morning when Emma finally makes her decision and slides out of the bed carefully, so she doesn’t wake the person sleeping next to her.

His light snores tell her he’s deeply asleep—he always could sleep through anything—but she still moves quickly. The only light in the room comes from the street lamps outside the window, so she’s not entirely sure what she’s stuffing into her bag, but it doesn’t matter. If she forgets anything, she’ll buy it, because she’s _never_ coming back.

It’s a strange feeling, being scared of someone. It’s been so long since she’s felt anything _remotely_ close to that, and when she realized what it was, she actually gasped out loud.

Shaking her head, she stuffs the last of her belongings into the duffle bag and snatches her keys from the desk. It’s just as she opens the door that he gives a soft huff and stirs, making her entire body go stiff. She waits a moment and when she doesn’t hear anything further, she walks out the door, closing it softly behind her before she all but runs to her car.

Inside of her yellow bug is freezing, and though it always takes about ten minutes to heat up, she doesn’t wait. Turning the key, she switches gears before the engine is fully started and stomps her foot down onto the pedal. The tires screech, and it’s not until the building is just a speck behind her that she finally gives a breath of relief.

If she’s being honest, she doesn’t know exactly _where_ she’s going. All she knows is that she has to get far— _far_ —away from New York.

Yanking the beanie off her head, her eyes flicker to her rearview mirror, and though she knows it’s impossible for Neal to follow, she’s still on alert.

Emma met Neal Cassidy a year ago when she was on a job. He was a little quirky, but fun to spend time with, and she thought she finally found someone that understood her. He didn’t care about the fact that she couldn’t cry, told her it was refreshing that he wouldn’t have to worry about her trying to use tears to make him feel bad, and she snorted before asking if girls really did that.

David never liked him. In the three times they met, two of them ended with arguments while the last ended with her brother punching Neal in the jaw.

So when her brother announced he and his new wife were moving to Maine, she lashed out and accused him of abandoning her—

_“Go ahead, fucking leave just like everyone else!” She growled, her voice shaking with anger. “What do I care?”_

_“That’s not what—”_

_“Save it, I don’t need your excuses and I don’t need you. Have a nice life, David.”_

—when in reality, he asked her to come with them and she refused.

The look on David’s face is one she’ll never forget and one that still haunts her. It was a mistake, a _big_ mistake. She only wishes it was one she could fix.

* * *

Emma reaches Boston just before eight in the morning and the sight of the Starbucks sign makes her almost sob in relief. She’s been awake for close to twenty-four hours, and though the adrenaline rushing through her is keeping her awake, she knows it’s only a matter of time before she starts to crash. She’s also grateful because her phone’s GPS drained her battery, and of course the one thing she forgot to grab was her charger.

 _Figures_.

“You wouldn’t happen to know how to get to Storybrooke, Maine, would you?” Emma asks the girl behind the counter as she’s handed back her change.

The confusion in the girl’s eyes makes Emma sigh. Without her phone, she has no idea where’s she going, and she seriously doubts she’s going to be able find a map anywhere, because who uses fucking maps anymore?

“I’ve never heard of Storybrooke… but I can tell you how to get to Maine.”

Emma’s eyes light up and she nods, thanking the girl repeatedly. Once she gets to Maine, she’s sure she’ll find _someone_ who knows where Storybrooke is.

_Seriously need to have a discussion with David about moving to a town in the middle of nowhere._

Stuffing a ten-dollar bill in the tip jar, she thanks the girl again for the directions before rushing out. She debates on trying to find a place where she can buy a charger, but decides against it. It’s already going to take her a few hours to get to Maine, and with not knowing how long it’ll take after that to get to Storybrooke, she needs all the time she can get.

She also thinks it’s better if David doesn’t know she’s coming. Though she doubts he would, if Neal calls him after he wakes up and finds her gone, David will be able to deny knowing her whereabouts. It’ll also make him sick with worry, but she’ll cross that bridge when she comes to it.

Bringing the steaming cup to her lips, she winces at the bitter taste and forces herself to swallow. She usually orders cream and sugar— _a lot_ of cream and sugar—but she went with black to help her stay awake. If it doesn’t, maybe the two red bulls and bottled cappuccinos she bought along with it will.

* * *

“Storybrooke?” The man behind the counter huffs while folding his arms over his round stomach. “What the hell are you going there, for?”

Running her hand through her hair, Emma clenches her jaw and takes a deep breath. It took longer than expected to get to Maine—she sat for an hour and half in bumper-to-bumper traffic due to an accident—and to top it off, it’s started to snow.

“My brother lives there,” she explains. “But I’ve only ever been once, so I’m not exactly sure where I’m headed.”

“And you don’t have a phone with GPS on it?”

Resisting the urge to yell, she speaks slowly, “My phone died, and I don’t have a charger. If you could just write down some directions for me… it would really help.”

“Lady, it’s a three-hour drive to Storybrooke—” She almost whimpers. “—and there’s a big storm coming in. Even if you were able to make it there before the thick of it, I doubt you’d—”

She’s not sure if it’s the stress over what happened with Neal, the lack of sleep she’s gotten, or the knowledge that she’s going to have to add another three hours of driving on top of the nearly ten hours she’s already done, but her frustration finally gets the best of her and she slaps her hand down on the counter.

The growl that’s been bubbling at the back of her throat finally escapes and she cuts him off, “Look, I get that there’s a storm coming in, but it’s extremely important that I get to Storybrooke _tonight_. Now, are you going to give me the fucking directions or am I just wasting my time?”

The man’s face hardens, and he glares for a moment before he turns to pick up a notepad and slams it down onto the counter.

“You want to get stuck in that snow storm, you be my guest,” he grumbles, his pen flying across the paper as he jots down the directions. “Town practically shuts down for the winter and you want to drive into it.” He rips the piece of paper off the notepad and shoves it at her with his brow raised. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Rolling her eyes, she snatches the paper from him and gives a mumbled thanks before stomping out the door. Again, she thinks about finding somewhere to purchase a charger but quickly dismisses it. With the little cash she has left, it’s better if she uses it to get more gas because the last thing she needs is for her car to break down in the middle of nowhere with no cell phone.

By the time she pulls out onto the highway, the snow is already starting to stick to the ground and she’s just barely holding it together. It took her twenty minutes to find a gas station that was open—most closed early due to the impending storm—and even then, she had to beg the guy to let her fill up, absolutely refusing to use her credit card.

_He might track her that way._

A few years back, Emma was waitressing at a restaurant when a woman at one of her tables reached over to the guy she was with and slammed his head down onto the table before handcuffing him. It wasn’t until after the cops showed up that she found out the woman, Cleo, was a bail bonds person and the guy was her skip.

She went home that night and spent hours searching the internet to find out exactly what a bail bonds person did. It was the first time in her life that a job called out to her. Up until then, she’d been working odd jobs to get by, but being a bail bonds person… that was something she could make a _career_ out of. With a determination she didn’t know she had, Emma tracked down Cleo and a few weeks later, she was a trained, licensed bail bonds person.

When Neal found out, he scoffed, thinking she wasn’t telling the truth. It wasn’t until she was hired to track down some deadbeat that wasn’t paying child support after he skipped bail that Neal believed her. She remembers how his eyes went wide before he started asking her question after question. Thinking he was excited to learn more about her and her profession, she taught him a few tricks. She knows the truth now that he was never interested in learning more about her, but in learning how to find someone, and if he wanted to, how to find her.

“So fucking stupid,” she whispers to herself, resting her elbow on the door and placing her hand on her head.

Either way, it doesn’t matter; she can’t change the past, what’s done is done. She can only do her best to try and right her wrongs, which is why she needs to get to Storybrooke—because if there’s one thing she’s sure of, it’s that David will know what to do.

_He always knows what to do._

* * *

By the time Emma drives past the ‘Welcome to Storybrooke’ sign, her eyes are heavy and she’s rolling the window down in hopes the frigid air will jolt her awake.

The road she’s driving down is familiar, but it’s pitch black out and she’s surrounded by woods. Not to mention, the snow seems to fall harder the closer she gets to town and her windshield wipers appear to be doing more harm than good.

Cursing under her breath, she reaches out the window and tries to catch one of the blades. If she could just snag it and force it to thump against the windshield, it might clear enough—

“Shit!”

A wolf appears in the middle of the road, causing her to jerk the wheel to the right. She struggles to keep control, but her tires slip on the snow and her car circles until it eventually drives off to the side of the road, stopping on top of a small snow bank. Her hands are glued to the steering wheel as she stares wide-eyed out her windshield, her heart pounding, still in disbelief over what happened.

After the initial shock wears off, Emma lets out a sigh of relief before pulling the shifter to reverse and pressing down on the pedal. Her tires slip, the high-pitched squeal of wet snow sliding against rubber echoing into the night and she lets up with a frown.

Picking up her beanie, she places it on her head and steps out, a small gasp of surprise falling from her lips at the tiny drop from her car to the ground. It’s a struggle to walk through the snow—it’s already up to her ankles—but she pushes through and—

“Fuck, fuck fuckl!” She growls into the night, her body losing balance and falling forward when she tries to stomp her foot on the ground.

The small snow bank she thought her car ran into isn’t _small_ at all. It’s big and has her car at an awkward angle. There’s no way she’s going to be able to back it out and absolutely _no_ way she’ll be able to dig it out herself.

Feeling her heart start to race, she wraps her arms around her body and looks around for… _anything_. With her cell phone dead, she can’t call for help, and though it wouldn’t be the first time she’s slept in her car, she’d have to keep it running in order to stay warm, and she’s not sure she has enough gas to do that _and_ drive into Storybrooke.

The snow continues to fall, and she feels herself on the edge of finally losing it when she notices a light in the distance. It’s about a quarter mile down the road, and though it’s hard to see through the storm, she knows it’s not a car because it’s not moving.

It takes Emma about three seconds to decide to move, yanking the keys from her engine. She grabs her dead cell phone, the pepper spray she always keeps in her glove box along with her gun and starts walking toward the light, praying she’s making the right decision.


	3. Yesterday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuous praise to @initiala and @idristardis for their amazing job at making me not look like an idiot :D Another shout out to cocohook38 for the beautiful banner, and the amazing art from chapter1.
> 
> Please please make sure you go check out all the other stories included with this project. They are all amazing and you won’t regret it, I assure you.

**July – 2015**

Killian breathes in deep, allowing the smell of the salty air to fill his nostrils, and keeps his eyes on the waves. Though the sun is high in the sky, the breeze from the bay makes it chilly enough that wearing a hoodie wouldn’t turn heads, but luckily, he doesn’t have to worry about that.

With his arms folded across his chest, he watches across the way a ship that bears his father’s company logo as it drifts toward the dock. It’s one of the reasons Brennan purchased the house, it has a great view of his new shipping dock despite being five miles away from the actual town, but then again, that’s what was perfect about it.

_“We can stay out here, unbothered, until we figure out a way to fix what has happened to you.”_

His eyes flicker over to the pocket watch levitating in the air next to him and he presses his lips together. It seems to do that whenever his mind wanders, almost as if it wishes to remind him of what’s happened.

As if he needs any reminders.

Three months have passed since Gold cursed him… three months where he’s spent each day waking up wishing what happened was all just a terrible nightmare only to find that it most certainly was _not_ a nightmare. It was his reality.

He was a monster.

If the disgusted look his father gave him when he revealed himself didn’t prove it, the terrified scream he was met with once he turned the hotel light on sure did. Milah was frightened… _horrified_ at what he had become. She wouldn’t even allow for him to get close to her, let alone _touch_ her and when he explained what Gold did, she ran into the night, fearing she’d be met with the same fate.

It still haunts him.

Clenching his jaw, he snatches the bottle of rum from the table and takes a large swig, uncaring that it’s only just past noon. It’s not as if there’s anyone there to reprimand him, his father made sure of that.

After two months of visiting nearly every plastic surgeon across the country with no success, Brennan came up with the brilliant idea to try some of the doctors in America. He exclaimed how perfect it was that the sale of his new shipping dock in Storybrooke, Maine had been finalized, because then they would have a place to stay.

For a brief moment, Killian thought everything was going to be okay, that he and his father would figure it out and the move would be a _good_ thing. Then his father received a call from Fiona, stating there was an urgent matter that needed his attention, and he left with the promise of returning as soon as he could.

When the first week passed, he tried calling, but Fiona told him Brennan was busy and to try back at a different time. When the second week passed, his father’s gifts began to arrive with typed notes of apology that were stamped with his initials instead of his actual signature, but still no phone call. When the third week passed, he ripped the landlines out of the walls, threw his useless cell into the ocean and smashed every mirror in the house.

Swallowing the last of the rum, he tosses the bottle into the yard to add to the growing collection and props his feet up on the chair in front of him. The alcohol makes his mind hazy, but not enough to keep his dark thoughts at bay, and he curses himself for not fetching a new bottle from the kitchen when he walked outside. He should have known that the quarter bottle wouldn’t be enough because, as if his life hadn’t been enough of a series of atrocities as of late, his tolerance for alcohol has grown exponentially.

He takes another deep breath and debates on walking to the edge of the yard where the small dock is to work on the boat that’s in the boat house—a beautiful, medium-sized wooden boat that was left to rot—when the doorbell echoes from the house. His head snaps toward the inside and his brow furrows.

The grocery delivery wasn’t due for another two days and the employee from the liquor store dropped his rum order off the day before. There’s no reason for anyone to be ringing his doorbell… unless…

With a small growl, he shoves himself up, kicking the chair away and snatching the watch from the air before stomping into the house.

During that second week, his father not only sent material gifts, but ones in the form of actual people, as well. Maids… butlers… drivers… anyone he deemed may be necessary. It was only after Killian sent the tenth one away that Brennan finally took the hint and stopped.

Or so he thought.

The doorbell rings again and he quickens his stride, ignoring the crunch of the broken glass under his boots. Ripping his hoodie from atop his head, he reaches for the door with a snarl already on his lips. He’ll frighten this one away just like all the others, perhaps then his father would—

Killian’s mouth falls open and his eyes widen. He must be dreaming—yes, that’s the only explanation. He drank far more than he remembers, and he’s fallen asleep, because the person in front of him just _can’t_ be… it’s not possible.

Taking a step back, the name falls from his lips in a breathless whisper, “Liam.”

His brother stands on the porch with his lips parted and his hands in his pockets. His hair has grown since Killian last saw him, and the curls he remembers Liam so desperately hated now fall onto his forehead. There are dark circles under his eyes, and Killian knows the exact moment it registers in his brother’s mind what he’s seeing because he gives a small gasp.

“Killian.” The hug Liam gives him is a surprise and his body goes completely stiff. “Finally.”

He blinks, his mouth opening and closing, before he reaches up to push Liam forward.

“Liam?” The feel of Liam’s hand on the side of his neck makes him flinch as his eyes search his brother’s face, still trying to determine if he’s real or not. “Are you truly here?”

A watery chuckle passes Liam’s lips as he brushes his thumb over Killian’s jaw and nods, “Aye, little brother. I’m truly here.”

Stunned, Killian asks, “But how?”

“Father—” He goes stiff again, and Liam moves his hand to his shoulder. “—He finally told me just yesterday and I took the first flight out.”

“What?”

There’s another chuckle and Liam pats the side of his neck before motioning to the open door.

“May I come in?”

“O-Of course.”

Killian’s head continues to spin as he takes a step back, his eyes moving down. It’s only then he notices the two suitcases and his brow furrows even deeper. This must be a trick, another game Gold is playing on him just like the pocket watch that floats in the air on its own, and it’s truly the cruelest trick of them all.

“Bloody hell,” Liam mumbles, his gaze moving over the wreckage in the living room. “Did you do this?”

Ignoring the question, he drags his eyes away from the two suitcases and shakes his head. “Brother, what are you doing here?”

Liam places his suitcases down and turns back to him.

“Father told me—”

“Aye?” He spits, cutting him off. “And what did our _dear_ father tell you, exactly?”

With another sigh, Liam reaches up to scratch his forehead and shrugs, “Not much, I’m afraid. When he bothered to answer his phone, he merely stated you were sick—” Killian scoffs at that. “—but after the news alerts said that you hadn’t been seen in a month…”

He reaches up to run his hand over his head, a spark of annoyance hitting him when it meets smooth skin instead of soft hair, and huffs. He had seen the news reports—rumors of an overdose—and his father told him they would sort it out once he was _fixed_.

“Where do they think I am?” He asks in a soft whisper.

Liam eyes him for a moment before answering. “Brennan made a public announcement that you were sent to a top-of-the-line rehab facility.” Killian’s jaw clenches, and the urge to hit something makes his fist twitch. “I didn’t believe him for one second, you must know that.”

“And what of the world?” He barks, the rage inside him boiling. “Just another junkie sent away! Do you have any idea what this will do to my reputation? To the life I’ve built?”

“The only thing that matters is that you are alright, little brother.”

Stepping forward, he yells, “Do I bloody well look alright?!”

Liam’s face softens, and he moves forward with his hands up in an attempt to soothe him, but it only makes Killian’s anger bubble to the surface. His brother is not blind, he can see what he’s become and for him to just ignore it…

“Killian,” he starts with a sigh. “I know things may seem… bleak—” His jaw nearly breaks from clenching it so hard as he moves from foot to foot. “—but you’ve your health, a warm bed to sleep in and a roof over your head.”

“Don’t be fooled, brother. The roof and warm bed are merely illusions to hide the fact that this house is a prison.”

Liam runs his hand through his hair.

“I was simply—”

“Three months, Liam. Three months I’ve been like this and now you’ve suddenly decided to show face?”

“Brennan wasn’t answering my calls!” He argues. “I went to London three bloody times to see you, but that wretched assistant of his always claimed you both to be gone. It wasn’t until I threatened to go to the media that he finally saw fit to see me!”

With a dark laugh, Killian motions to the front door, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he says, “My apologies for being such an inconvenience, you can see yourself out.”

Turning to walk down the hall, he stops when Liam calls to him, “Brother, that is not what I meant!”

He looks back to him and hooks his thumb through his belt.

“And what _exactly_ did you mean? Because all I’m hearing is how much of a struggle it was for you to leave your perfect life just so you could see for yourself how much I’ve lost.”

“I’ve lost my fair share, too,” he mumbles.

Just barely holding himself back from losing control, he gives a humorless chuckle and turns again, calling over his shoulder, “Dry your eyes, Liam. Whatever it is, it doesn’t justify what you’ve done.”

“And what is it you believe I’ve done?”

The dam breaks and a tidal wave of rage hits him. He stomps toward Liam, his growl vibrating from the back of his throat, and grabs him by the front of his shirt.

“You abandoned me!” He roars in his brother’s face. “You left in the middle of the night and you _abandoned_ me!”

Liam’s brows pull together and a forced breath passes his lips as Killian shoves him back against the wall, though he doesn’t attempt to fight him off.

“I… I wasn’t trying… you…”

“I was a child!” Killian spits, his fingers tightening on Liam’s shirt as he presses him harder into the wall. “What could I have possibly done to warrant such desertion?”

There’s what sounds like a choked sob that comes from his brother before he shakes his head.

“You did—”

“You were supposed to be my brother!”

Liam’s eyes widen before he cries out, “I _am_ your brother… nothing will ever change that!”

His upper lip twitches as he moves closer and hisses, “Then tell me, _dear brother_ , why did you abandon me? Was I that much of a—”

“I’m gay, Killian.”

He blinks, his lips parting as Liam takes a deep breath and continues, “And I knew father would never accept me because of it.” His grip loosens on Liam’s shirt before his hands drop to his sides. “The night of the unveiling, he informed me of his plans for the future and made it abundantly clear that someone such as me would not be welcome. So I left… unwilling to live my life in the closet any longer.”

Killian takes a step back, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He wishes there was a part of him that could argue in his father’s defense, but everything his brother is telling him is the truth. If Brennan had known Liam was gay, he’d have shipped him away, written Liam off just as he’s done with him. Though, there’s still a twinge of anger he feels deep inside of him toward his brother, and he’s finding it hard to ignore.

“All that tells me is that you not only left me… but you didn’t trust me, either.” He looks to the floor, his stomach knotting as he mumbles, “I don’t know which is worse.”

“I tried to take you with me.” Killian’s head snaps up and Liam nods, “Brennan threatened to call the police and tell them I kidnapped you since you were still in his care, wouldn’t even allow for me to say goodbye. I think he knew deep down, given the choice, you would have left with me. So, I wrote you a letter and slipped it under your door.” Killian’s brow furrows in question and Liam asks, “Did you not get it?” After Killian gives a small shrug in confusion, Liam runs his hand through his hair with an exasperated sigh. “Bloody hell, he must have seen me and snatched it away before you awoke.”

“What did it say?”

Liam scratches his jaw and shrugs, “I told you there were reasons why I left… reasons I couldn’t explain on paper. I left you a number where I could be reached so that we could talk…”

“There was no letter,” he breathes out, his eyes moving frantically over his brother’s face. “Father claimed you left without a word.”

With a snort, Liam rolls his eyes, “Of course he did. I’m going to assume you are unaware that I came back for your eighteenth birthday, as well?”

Killian’s eyes widen. “ _What_?”

“It all makes sense now,” he mumbles to himself before shaking his head. “I came for you again, knowing that he could no longer call the police, but when I showed up, Brennan informed me that you were off celebrating since you had chosen to work for him and didn’t wish to see me.”

He stumbles back, the weight of what he’s just been told too much for him to bear. For years his father spoke of how selfish Liam was, leading him to believe all the vicious lies he told…

“You never cancelled visits we were to have,” Killian starts in a whisper, “did you?”

Liam waits a moment before he slowly shakes his head.

“Not once.” The ground suddenly feels as if it’s moving beneath him, and he sucks in a breath as his knees buckle and Liam rushes forward. “Hey, hey… it’s alright.”

His hands begin to shake as he crumbles to the floor. It’s as if every lie his father told him suddenly comes to light, and he wonders how he ever believed him. The last ten years of his life have been an entire lie, and he has no one to blame but himself, because deep down, he thinks there’s a part of him that’s always known.

Liam sits next to him, his arm going around Killian’s shoulders as he tries to control his breathing.

“Do you remember what mum would do when we were upset?” Liam mumbles, his head resting back against the wall.

Fisting his hands, he simply nods in response and after a moment, he hears his brother begin to sing.

“ _Imagine there’s no heaven. It’s easy if you try. No hell below us. Above us only sky. Imagine all the people… living for today._ ”

Killian feels a single tear run down his cheek. It was the cure to everything, she’d told them, and she was right, because it seemed that no matter what was bothering them at the time, whenever their mother would sing a Beatles song, they knew everything would be okay.

“You must think me so foolish, brother,” he cuts in. “I believed him… I believed every word.”

Liam tightens his hold around him and sighs.

“So did I. But it’s in the past. All that matters now is that we’re together, and I promise I will never leave you again.”

Instead of answering, he lays his head on his brother’s shoulder and closes his eyes, choosing to push away the voice of doubt and listen as Liam continues with the song.

“ _Imagine there’s no countries. It isn’t hard to do. Nothing to kill or die for. And no religion too. Imagine all the people… living life in peace.”_

* * *

**January – 2018**

Killian sits by the fire, staring at the crossword puzzle book in his hands. It’s a hobby he’s picked up since moving to the secluded house in the woods. When his mind seems to be unable to stop racing, he finds concentrating on the puzzle helps as a distraction. Only now, it seems to be more of an annoyance than a distraction. The last clue—

**‘It springs eternal’**

—almost taunting him as he stares at it, trying to grasp what it may be. Giving a frustrated huff, he drops the book to the coffee table and snatches up his discarded glass of rum and listens as the sweet-sounding voice of John Lennon echoes throughout the room.

_‘Newspaper taxis appear on the shore_  
Waiting to take you away  
Climb in the back with your head in the clouds  
And you’re gone’

His leg bounces to the beat of the chorus while he sloshes the liquid around in his mouth and lounges back on the couch. Resting the glass on his thigh, the sight of his right hand catches his eye and he sighs. He searches the black vines and bubbled skin like he has so many times before in hopes of finding a hidden answer within them, but all he sees is the ugliness. Flipping his arm over, he clenches his fist, watching as the black vines of the triad Gold put there begin to move on an endless loop.

Just like the endless loop that has become his life.

Shaking his head, he pushes himself up off the couch and walks out into the hall, his eyes flickering to the front door. It started to snow a little before sunset, and though it’s something he’s grown accustomed to since moving to Storybrooke, it still surprises him just how _much_ snow falls in the winter months. Walking to the front door, he pulls it open and moves out onto the porch. The snow continues to fall—harder than it was before—and he debates on going to the garage for more wood but decides against it. From the look of his front yard, the snow would already be up to his ankles, and he doesn’t wish to deal with wet jeans.

“Bloody hell, Killian.” He looks behind him to see Liam walking out, his shoulders automatically curling in. “What are you doing?”

With a snort, he motions out into the night and says, “Just catching some fresh air.”

“Catching pneumonia more like it,” Liam huffs. “Come, little brother, I’ve put the kettle on.”

Rolling his eyes, he grumbles, “Younger.”

He turns to go back inside, reaching up to shut the lights off on their front gate when he’s distracted by a sound in the distance. He waits a moment until he hears nothing but the whistle of the wind and brush of the snow before walking in.

“I’ve salted the back porch, though I’m not sure what good it’ll do. When I was in town earlier, David said by the time it stops we should have about three feet of snow.”

“That’s just the first wave,” Killian starts. “You remember last year, we were house-bound until April.”

“It’s a small town,” Liam offers with a shrug as they head toward the kitchen, “and it’s not as if anyone else knows we live here.”

“The entire bloody town shuts down for the winter, so I hardly believe it would matter if they knew we were here or not.” He sits down at the counter and says, “The sheriff knows and that’s bloody well enough.”

“And look how long it took for you to allow me to tell him.” He pulls two tea cups from the cupboard while shaking his head. “There were only so many times ‘ _I’m just visiting_ ’ was going to work.”

Killian raises his brow. “It would have had you not been making daily trips into town.” Liam scoffs while pouring the steaming liquid, though his cheeks tint slightly, and Killian clears his throat. “How is Graham?” The mention of his boyfriend’s name makes Liam’s body go stiff and Killian eyes him. “What is it?”

He watches as his brother hands him the cup of tea before mumbling, “We should talk.”

The all too familiar spark of dread attempts to rise from the pit of his stomach and he quickly snatches the bottle of rum from its spot on the counter. The last time he spoke those words to him, it was to inform him that he had _met_ someone, and while he’s happy Liam has found someone, he also feels somewhat... betrayed.

Liam came to America with a promise to never leave, and though deep down he knows that it’s unfair, Killian secretly thought that promise also meant that he wouldn’t ever find love, because _love_ was what made him into what he was.

Ignoring the look of disapproval he’s given, he pours a healthy dose of rum into his tea before sighing, “About what?”

“Graham’s lease is up in April—” Killian’s jaw clenches. “—and I thought we might discuss the possibility of—”

“You wish to leave and be with him—” Killian cuts him off, his tone filled with anger. “—in the town?”

Hurt courses through him as he tries to control his breathing. Hurt that his brother found someone to love him while he’s forced to live out the rest of his days secluded from the world with no hope to ever leave and hurt that he’s become so selfish.

“No!” Liam nearly shouts, his eyes wide. “Little brother, I’ve promised not to leave you and I shall keep my promise.”

“Then what is it you’re asking, Liam?”

With a small sigh, Liam runs his hand through his hair and asks, “I’d like to ask Graham to live with us.”

A feeling of swooping panic rushes through him and his fingers tighten around the tea cup.

“Y-You… he… _why?_ ” When Liam’s mouth falls open, Killian shakes his head. “I meant, why would he want to be stuck here in the middle of the woods?”

“Because he loves me _and_ you… and he wishes to be with us.” Killian presses his lips together and his brother rests his cup on the counter. “Graham adores you, Killian, you must know that!”

There’s a small smile that fights to appear on his lips, but he forces it to stay away. Though he’s a monster, he knows what his brother says is true. It was just last spring that he finally allowed his brother to bring Graham to the house and the Sheriff treated him with nothing but kindness and respect—even held back his disgust—despite Killian’s less than jovial attitude toward him... but that doesn’t mean he’s ready for someone new to live with them.

“Aye, though I hardly think he’s ready to look at my face every day.”

Liam gives a sigh and briefly closes his eyes. “Graham doesn’t see your _face_ , little brother. He sees _you_.”

With a snort, Killian says, “You mean the mons—”

“Enough!” Liam shouts, making Killian’s eyes widen. “You may feel that way about yourself, but I don’t, and I’ll not listen to it any longer. Now, if you’re uncomfortable with having this conversation, I’ll not bring it up again.”

Silence falls between them and the anger he felt only seconds before seems to have switched to guilt. It’s strange the old habits that still linger within him from before, like when he saw a flaw in himself, how he’d bring it out in the open. While his father would agree with him and tell him how to change, Liam doesn’t like it at all.

_“If you’re constantly looking for the ugly, how are you to ever truly appreciate the beautiful?”_

After a moment, Killian clears his throat. “But what of your future with him?” Shaking his head, he picks up his tea to take a sip and mumbles, “Perhaps you should go be with him, there’s no reason for us both to be miserable.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Liam’s voice is tight, but firm.

Killian rolls his eyes. “I’m serious, brother. This is my burden to bear, and trust me, there’s no future here.”

Liam puts his cup back down and places his hands on the counter, his voice filled with determination, “Who says there isn’t? You still have time to—”

With a huff, he pushes himself up and shakes his head.

“I’m not having this conversation again.”

“Killian if you would just _try_!”

He turns back to Liam, his face hard and a growl forming at the back of his throat.

“I did _try_! She ran away screaming!”

“Aye, _she_ did! But what of others? If you would just put yourself out there...” He scoffs and Liam points toward the back porch. “You’re a good man, Killian, and there is a woman out there that will see that.”

Briefly closing his eyes, he takes a step forward with his mouth open to respond when the doorbell echoes from the hall. His head snaps to the left and silence falls throughout the kitchen. For a second, Killian believes the sound came from inside his head, but when it rings a second time, he knows it’s real.

“Who the bugger…”

He and Liam move at the same time. They _never_ get visitors—their house is practically hidden unless a person knows which turn to take to get to it—especially not at seven at night in the middle of a snow storm.

Just as they walk up to the door, there’s a knock followed by a female voice, “Hello! Is anyone home?”

Liam moves forward, and out of instinct Killian reaches back to pull his hood over his head. He watches as his brother opens the door, the look on his face changing from confusion to concern in an instant.

“Bloody hell, lass, are you alright?” Liam steps out onto the porch and Killian hears him say, “Come inside, you’ll catch your death out here.”

With his eyes wide, he quickly jumps to hide behind the door as his brother ushers the woman inside.

“Thank you, _fuck_ , it’s cold out.”

He ducks down so he can’t be seen through the paned glass while Liam says, “That it is. We’ve a fire going in the living room, let’s get you warmed up.”

Killian curses under his breath and makes a mental note to smack his brother upside his damn head once the woman is gone. He _knows_ how Killian feels about people coming into the house and he just invites this woman in without so much as a second thought.

Peeking out from behind the door, he gets a quick glimpse of blonde hair and red leather before she and Liam disappear into the living room. He listens as the woman explains that she was traveling to her brother’s house when a wolf jumped in front of her car, causing her to drive right into a mound of snow. His brow furrows as he looks out onto the porch, though all he sees is snow and the light from their front gate.

“Are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah,” he hears her answer as he inches closer. “It’s just my car is stuck, and my cell is dead. If you wouldn’t mind letting me borrow your phone, I can call my brother—”

“I’m afraid that’s the one thing I can’t help with,” Liam winces. “We’ve no landlines.”

“A cell?”

“Won’t find much luck there, either. There’s no service here… I’ve always had to wait until I’m in town myself and with the storm…” His brother trails off and seconds later he hears a soft curse. The floor creaks under Killian’s foot and he shoots back against the wall, his heart pounding wildly as he searches for a place he can run to. “If you’ll excuse me a moment, I just want to inform my brother of what’s happening. Stay by the fire, get yourself warm.”

Killian nearly bolts out the front door—the cold would be far better than having the woman see him—when he sees Liam walk out into the hall, his eyes wide with worry.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Liam nods to the dining room and Killian gives a quick glance to the living room before he pulls the hood to cover the side of his face and moves. “I can’t believe you invited her in here!”

“What was I supposed to do, leave her out in the cold?” Killian presses his lips together and Liam continues, “She says her car is stuck up the road, we’ll go, help dig her out and—”

His body goes stiff and he feels his anxiety begin to rise.

“No! I-I can’t… she can’t see my face!” It’s as his breathing picks up that he realizes Liam’s stepped forward to place his hands on his shoulders. “I want to help but she can’t see my face.”

“Alright, she won’t,” Liam assures, and Killian breathes a small sigh of relief. “In the hall closet upstairs there’re winter items Graham left. There’s a ski mask, grab that, along with some other things we may need, and it’ll be alright.” He balks at the suggestion and his brother raises an eyebrow, “You want her out of here as quick as possible? Then we’re going to need to help dig her out - and if you don’t wish for her to see your face, it’s the only way.”

Killian waits a moment, weighing his options as he gives a small nod. “Alright.”

“Go. I’ll tell her.”

He waits until Liam heads back into the living room before he all but runs up the stairs. Despite the comfortable temperature in the house, his palms are sweating, and he feels he may pass out at any moment. For close to three years, it’s been just him and Liam—with the exception of Graham a few times out of the year—and having some woman, no matter how short of a time, in their house is making him extremely uncomfortable.

Ripping the closet door open, he searches for what seems like ages until he finds the black, knitted ski mask on a shelf along with scarves and gloves. Truth be told, he doesn’t wish to wear it— _bloody thing looks itchy as hell_ —but anything is better than having to hear another horrified scream.

He grabs the ski mask, along with some other items and shuts the closet door, telling himself the faster they work, the faster they can get the woman out on the road. With a deep breath, he yanks the ski mask over his face and heads back downstairs. It’s just as he reaches the bottom of the steps that someone crashes square into his chest and out of instinct, he reaches out to keep the person from falling. Looking down, it’s as if the wind gets knocked out of him and his jaw drops.

It’s her, the woman, and she’s… _stunning_.

“Oh shit!” she gasps, snapping him out of his thoughts and he quickly lets her go while taking a step back. A nervous chuckle passes her lips before she reaches up to adjust her gray beanie and says, “Sorry! The, uh, the ski mask kind of freaked me out.” He presses his lips together as she continues, “But I get it, it’s cold out. I’m Emma, by the way, you must be… Killian, right?”

She holds out her hand and his fingers twitch. The urge to bring her knuckles to his lips is almost overwhelming, but he fights it and accepts her handshake.

“Aye.”

“It’s nice to meet you, and thank you, for helping me... I really do appreciate it.”

He swallows when her green eyes search his face and mutters, “Happy to help.”

“Ah—” They both look to the left to see Liam walking up with his coat on, Killian’s coat in his one hand and three flashlights in the other. “—you two’ve met. Are we ready to do this?”

Killian hears the silent question his brother is asking and clears his throat while stepping forward to exchange the extra scarf and gloves he’s brought down for his coat.

“Aye.”

There’s a small smile that appears on Liam’s face and he moves to offer the extra items to Emma. “If you won’t accept another coat, please, at the very least, accept these. It’s freezing out and I can’t have the Deputy’s sister getting sick on my watch.”

Killian’s eyes snap up to Liam. Was she really Graham’s Deputy’s sister? His brother raises his brows in a silent answer as Emma wraps the scarf around her neck.

“I’ve had worse,” she breathes while putting the gloves on, “Thank you, though.”

She gives a tight lipped smile before walking toward the front door and Killian can’t help but run his eyes over her body— _bloody hell, her arse is amazing_ —as he and Liam follow. The snow makes it hard to walk, but with their flashlights they’re able to navigate through the blackness with ease.

“It’s just up the way a little…”

“Bugger, you must have walked a quarter mile to get here,” Liam calls over his shoulder and Emma shrugs.

“It didn’t seem that far on the—shit!” She cries out as she almost trips for the third time, her hand shooting out to grasp Killian’s arm.

Even through the thickness of his coat, he can feel the heat of her skin and it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The last time he felt the touch of a woman—in any capacity—was the night he was cursed, and it… frightens him to feel it now. His entire body goes stiff and his breathing begins to pick up before she quickly lets go with a nervous chuckle.

“Sorry—slipped.”

Pushing forward, he mumbles, “No problem.”

He can feel both his brother’s and her eyes on him, but he continues on because the quicker they work, the quicker he can return to his closed-off life. When they finally get to her car, Killian curses lightly. There’s a thin coating of snow that already covers it, but the worst part is the angle it’s on. This being his third winter in Storybrooke and his _seventh_ snowstorm, he knows that it’s going to take a lot more than pressing on the gas to get the car moving.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get hurt!” Liam gasps.

“Yeah, I, uh, I didn’t realize how bad it was,” Emma mumbles, the light from her flashlight slightly shaking. “This road is really dark.”

Liam tells her they’ll take care of the shoveling if she’ll just hold onto the light, but she insists on helping, grabbing the broom to brush the snow off the top of the car while also holding the flashlight up. Killian moves to the passenger side and can’t help but watch Emma from the corner of his eye. She’s obviously cold—the jacket she’s wearing too thin to keep her warm—though she doesn’t allow it to delay her.

“After you passed the Storybrooke sign, you stayed left instead of heading right,” Liam explains when Emma asks where she went wrong. “The road is barely noticeable, due to the overgrowth of trees. I’m surprised you managed to find it.”

She takes a deep breath, her nose crinkling as she pulls her keys out of her pocket.

“So am I,” she mutters before moving to start her car.

Ignoring Emma and Liam’s conversation, Killian moves to shovel more of the snow away when he catches sight of her front passenger tire. Placing the shovel against the door, he squats to brush the snow away and holds his flashlight up to it.

“The main road is not far—half a mile. Killian and I will follow to make sure you won’t get stuck again. That’ll be slightly better, and it will lead you straight into Storybrooke.”

Cursing under his breath, he stands and says, “Unless you have a spare tire, I don’t think that’ll happen.”

Her brow furrows. “What?”

He motions to the flat tire and takes a step back as she and Liam walk around before they both speak at the same time.

“Bollocks.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” Liam kneels down to get a closer look while Emma yanks her beanie off with a frustrated groan. “Please tell me it’s not that bad!”

Killian steps back as best he can with the snow, but she’s still close enough that her hair just barely tickles his face when it blows in the wind and he suddenly wishes he wasn’t wearing the ski mask so that he could feel it.

“I’m afraid it is, lass,” Liam winces as he stands. “You’ve got a rock puncturing the front tire. If you have a spare, we could—”

“I don’t have a spare,” she cuts him off, her voice wavering. “Long story, but I had to make room and it… it got taken out and never put back in.”

He and Liam don’t say anything as they watch her stomp around the car to the driver’s side before she reaches in to turn her engine off.

“Emma, you’re more than welcome to come back to the house,” Liam offers, making Killian’s head snap over to him. “We’ll sort it all out. Perhaps we can get a signal to call someone.”

“No, I can’t…” She shakes her head. Her voice is borderline panicked and Liam moves toward her while Killian’s hand tightens around the flashlight. “You guys have done enough already… I’ll figure something out.”

Her eyes move up the road as she bites her bottom lip and Killian nearly snorts, because he knows what she’s thinking without her saying a word.

“You can’t hitchhike,” he murmurs, making her look to him, and he flinches until he remembers he’s wearing a ski mask. “You’ll freeze before you can make it anywhere.”

He sees her jaw clench, the anger shining clear in her eyes before she ducks into the car. Liam looks to him and he shrugs while Emma pulls back out with a duffle bag in her hands. A series of curses passes her lips as she slams the door shut with more force than necessary, making her stumble back before she quickly rights herself.

“Right,” Liam nods and picks up his shovel. “Let’s get inside.”

* * *

Killian spends the better part of the night lying in his bed staring at the pocket watch as it hovers above him. It began to tick once he entered his room, something it had never done before, and when he reached for it, his stomach knotted. The bud that had been tightly closed earlier in the day, was cracked open as if just at the beginning stages of blooming.

He knew it was coming… close to three years was too long, but it still made him curl into a ball. His life was not intended to go this way. Though a future within his father’s company wasn’t his original plan, he’d worked hard for it and in return, he was thrown away like yesterday’s garbage, never to be concerned with again.

When he can’t take the sound of the ticking anymore, he finally jumps out of bed, ripping the damned watch out of the air to toss it onto his dresser before he makes his way to his door. Opening it quietly, his eyes flicker to the room across the landing, shoulders sagging in relief when he finds the guest bedroom door closed.

After they returned from discovering Emma’s car had a flat, Liam explained to her what winters in Storybrooke were like and the lass spent a good hour sitting in their living room, charging her phone with his brother’s cord and trying desperately to find a signal. It was only after Liam insisted she get some rest—even from the distance Killian kept he could see the dark bruising under her eyes—that she finally relented and went to their guest bedroom.

Logically, Killian knows there’s nothing they can do, she’s going to _have_ to stay with them until the roads are clear enough to drive on, but he also knows that could be weeks, perhaps even months.

_How the bloody hell am I supposed to hide myself away for months?_

A surge of irritation rushes through him as he makes his way into the kitchen and snatches his bottle of rum from the counter before moving to the living room. Though it’s the middle of the night, he vows to enjoy what little privacy he has left before his house becomes even more of a prison.

The fire continues to crackle and pop and he stares into it while his nails pick at the label on the bottle, his thoughts drifting to the woman that’s currently sleeping in what was once supposed to be his father’s room. She’s beautiful— _gorgeous_ —and if it were three years prior, when she introduced herself, he’d have taken her by the hand, pressed a kiss to her knuckles and whispered, _“What a lovely name,”_ before sweet talking her into his bedroom. But it’s not and he’s unable to do any of those things… because he’s a monster.

Taking a large gulp, he places the bottle back on the table and picks up his discarded book of crossword puzzles. If he can’t sleep, he’ll force his brain to concentrate on something other than the blonde that’s become their new house mate for the foreseeable future. He flips the book open to the puzzle he was working on while taking another sip before his entire body freezes, because written in the blocks, in very feminine handwriting, is the answer to the clue he missed:

**Hope.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny thing, I ended this chapter this way before it was announced what their daughter’s name would be. :D ALSO JEWELHUNTER IS NOW ONE OF MY OTPs AND NO ONE CAN TAKE THAT FROM ME!


	4. The Long and Winding Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both @initiala and @idristardis yelled at me during this chapter when they edited this, maybe you guys won’t. :D

Emma wakes to a strange thumping sound and her brow furrows. She looks around the room, lifting her head to find it still in darkness due to the blackout curtains covering the windows. Dropping her head back down with a sigh, she reaches out to the bedside table and picks up her phone, squinting a bit at the bright light.

**No Service.**

She allows the phone to slip from her fingers and nearly groans in frustration. A week she’s been stuck in the cabin house— _mansion is more like it_ —and she’s no closer to leaving than she was the night that she ran her car into that snow bank. Liam warned her it would be like this—

_“We’re on a dead-end road in the middle of the woods, Emma. Even If Storybrooke didn’t close down for the winter, they wouldn’t know to come dig us out unless asked.”_

—but she had hoped that he might have been exaggerating.

He obviously wasn’t.

Hearing the noise again, she pushes herself up and out of bed, pulling the pajama pants she’s borrowed up so she doesn’t trip, and walks over to the window. When she pulls the curtain back, it takes a second for her eyes to adjust, but when they do, her eyebrow quirks up. The thumping noise that woke her was the sound of Killian’s axe as he slams it down to chop a piece of wood in half.

Despite the snow, he’s not wearing a jacket, and she briefly wonders if the white thermal, beanie and scarf he’s wearing is enough to keep him warm. It’s obviously cold—his breath makes a cloud every time he breathes out—and she considers taking a cup of coffee out to him but decides against it.

Since the night she agreed to stay, she’s seen the mysterious younger Jones only a handful of times and each has been more interesting than the next because while Liam has been open and welcoming, Killian has been closed off and distant. Every time she walks into a room, he walks out, and when he does decide to stay for more than a couple seconds, he keeps his head down and his face shielded by whatever hoodie he’s wearing. He never speaks. Even when Liam tries to engage him, he’ll only offer a few grunts before he’s nearly running away.

_“Killian, he’s…” Liam started with a sigh. “He’s been through a lot, so it just takes a while for him to interact with someone new.”_

_She almost snorted before mumbling, “We have that in common.”_

Another thump echoes from the outside and she shakes her head before backing away. After she’s dressed, she grabs a hoodie Liam left for her and walks out into the hall. When she approaches the main stairs, she looks to the left and sees Liam sitting at a desk in the study writing in what looks like a book and briefly wonders if he’s making a list of things for them to do.

With no TV or internet—sometimes she swears she’s fallen into a time portal that’s taken her back to the 1700s—there isn’t much to do to pass the time, so she’s had to rely on Liam and his hobbies to keep her occupied, which include painting in their garage and chess. She’s never been much of an artist, so she opted for the latter, and though it’s confusing and she’s not very good, she’s grateful to have something that keeps her mind from overthinking how she’s trapped in a house in the woods with two men who are complete strangers.

“Knock, knock.”

Liam looks up from whatever he’s writing and greets her with a warm smile.

“Ah, Emma, good morning. I trust you slept well.”

She folds her arms across her chest and leans against the door frame. Probably the one good—not really _good_ , but more helpful—things about growing up in foster care, is that it’s made it easy to sleep almost anywhere, because she was constantly on the move. And despite her having her own bed for just as long as she didn’t have one, that feeling still lingers.

A bed is a bed and while it’s not _home_ , it’s somewhere she can rest.

“As well as can be expected,” she breathes. “Though the blackout curtains do help.”

He gives a small chuckle while tapping his pen against the book in front of him and nods, “Aye, when I first moved here, Killian had them all throughout the house. It was a struggle, but he eventually relented to allowing them to only be hung in the bedrooms. This place is closed off enough from the world. There’s no need to close out the sun, as well.”

Emma looks over her shoulder toward the room she’s staying in with a frown.

“I guess he’s really an introvert, huh?”

“He never used to be,” Liam defends, making her look back to him. “I know it may not seem like—”

“Oh, no,” she gasps, pushing herself up and shaking her head. “I’m not judging him or anything. I actually kind of understand. Sometimes it’s nice to get away from the world.”

“Not for three years.”

Her eyes widen. “Three years? Why?”

He turns back to his book, his fingers tightening around his pen before he mumbles, “I don’t know.”

She can tell he’s lying, but chooses to let it go, because whatever made Killian close himself off from the world for three years is none of her business.

_It’s not like you’ve never wanted to escape._

“If you don’t mind waiting until I’m finished here,” Liam’s voice breaks her out of her thoughts. “I can start breakfast.”

Giving a soft smile, she says, “Take your time. I’m going to grab a cup of coffee and go get some fresh air.”

“Alright, lass. I’ll be down shortly.”

As she makes her way down the stairs, she hears music playing from the sound system that’s apparently installed throughout the entire downstairs and hums along with the tune. When she was young, she made it a point to listen to all the Beatles albums and learn their songs after David told her they were their parent’s favorite band.

She stopped listening to them as she got older—she stopped doing a lot of things as she got older—but hearing them come on whoever’s playlist that’s hooked up makes her smile and she’s glad they play often.

Walking into the kitchen, she opens the cupboard to take out a mug and waits for the coffee to brew. The thumping from outside is louder and she leans across the counter to look out the sliding glass door that leads to the backyard. She can’t see much, only the tip of the axe when Killian brings it over his head and a sliver of his white thermal, but she continues to watch.

There’s something about Killian Jones that she can’t quite put her finger on and it sort of… bugs her. It’s not like she hopes for them to become best friends, but maybe they can come to some understanding so that it’s not awkward.

She pours herself a cup of coffee, adding extra sugar since they don’t have any creamer and heads to the backyard. Making it a point to not look toward Killian, she curls her shoulders in and brings the mug up to her face, humming when the steam warms her skin. It’s colder the closer she gets to the water, but she fights through it and pulls her phone out.

**No service.**

Giving a small huff, she shoves her phone back into her pocket and looks out across the water. The buildings of the shipping company block most of the view of the town, but she can still see the clock tower and her heart aches a little at the sight of it, knowing that David and Mary Margaret’s loft is only two blocks from it. She remembers this because when she visited, just about everyone had been unable to stop talking about how ‘miraculous’ it was that the clock had started working again—

_“It’s been broken since the summer of 2015!”_

_“No one has been able to figure out why it stopped!”_

_“We thought it would never work again!”_

—she also remembers it because the fucking thing had woken her at seven in the damn morning with its window rattling chiming.

_That was fun._

It’s torture, being so close yet so far from her brother and she can’t help but wonder if it’s karma coming back to bite her in the ass for the way she’s treated him the last couple of months. Still pissed over him moving and the way he treated Neal, she dodged a lot of his phone calls and refused to visit over the holidays. Now, she _needs_ to talk to him and she’s unable to. Taking a sip of her coffee, she moves to turn back to the house when something tied to the edge of the dock catches her eye. It looks almost like a tarp, but the reflection of the boat makes it hard to see, so she walks forward and crotches down.

The first thing she notices is how old the string tied around the wooden pole looks, like it’s been there for years, the second is that tarp is torn to shreds. She puts her mug down and uses her nails to untie the string and when she pulls it out of the water, the first thing she sees is the name ‘Jones’, in large, bold letters and underneath there’s what appears the top half of a man’s face. Tilting her head, she studies the unruly dark hair and moves her gaze down until she’s looking into a pair of bright blue eyes.

A thump from Killian’s axe makes her jump and she drops the banner into the water by accident.

“Shit,” she mumbles, watching as it floats to the bottom while another thump echoes in the wind.

Pushing herself up, she grabs her coffee mug and wipes her hands on her jeans. As she walks back toward the house, her eyes flicker over to Killian and she takes a second to examine him. The beanie he’s wearing is pulled down over his ears and the scarf is covering most of the back of his neck, but on the small portion of skin that is showing, she sees something that makes her stop.

It looks like a tattoo of some kind, tree branches or vines, maybe? She can’t really tell because the rest of the black ink is covered by his scarf and part of her wants to ask him about it, though she doesn’t think starting a conversation with—

_“Hey, so I was just weirdly staring at the back of your neck while you chopped wood and I was wondering what your tattoo was?”_

—would be wise.

Instead, she holds her mug between both hands and calls out to him, “So, people who live in the woods really do chop their own wood?”

“Bloody hell,” he breathes out, the axe faltering before he can bring it down. She watches as he shakes his head, but instead of turning around, he lifts the axe again and asks, “Do you make it a habit of sneaking up on people?”

“Only when I know it’ll scare the person,” she jokes, a nervous chuckle passing her lips as her fingers tighten around her mug. “Probably shouldn’t have done it when you’re chopping wood though.”

“Probably not,” he huffs before slamming the axe back down, his voice dripping with a hint of annoyance.

She waits a moment, not really sure what for, before motioning to the water.

“I was just—”

“Walking down to the water in hopes to get a signal on your phone?” She blinks, her lips parting before he continues, “Aye, you do it every morning.”

Her cheeks flush with embarrassment and she’s suddenly grateful for the cold weather that’s made her skin already rosy so he won’t notice. As far as she knew, Liam thought she just enjoyed a walk down by the water each morning and if she would have guessed, Killian would have had no idea. But it seems he’s been watching her and she feels a touch of annoyance at that. He can barely say two words to her when they are in the same room, but he can watch her from a distance?

_This coming from the person that was just staring at the back of his neck._

“Yeah, well…”

“It’s no use.” He moves to place another piece of wood down while continuing to keep his back to her. “There’s nothing but woods that surround us and the one side that isn’t woods is open water.”

Feeling a tickle of frustration at the back of her throat, she clenches her jaw and waits until he slams the axe down again before she all but hisses, “I know, but I have to try. It’s not like there’s going to be a sign that lets me know when I’ll be able to travel into town.”

“Yes there is.”

Her brow furrows. “What?”

For a brief moment, she thinks he’s going to ignore her, but then his shoulders sag before he drops the axe and reaches for the scarf around his neck. When he turns, she sees that he’s brought the scarf up to cover the bottom half of his face before he’s pointing out to the water.

“You see that chimney on top the building to the left?” She raises her hand to block the sun from getting in her eyes and nods. “When smoke begins to rise from that chimney, that means the storms are done and they are opening the town back up.”

Her head snaps over to him. “Seriously?” He gives a quick nod in answer and she asks, “How do you know?”

“Graham always shows up a week later.”

When she first came to Storybrooke, David took her to the station to meet his new boss and they ended up really hitting it off. Graham was sweet, kind, and he played darts with her when her sister-in-law’s overly joyful persona was too much to handle. Now he’s helping her without even realizing and she’s grateful, because while she was freezing that night she showed up on the Jones doorstep, she was cautious, too, keeping her fingers wrapped around the pepper spray in her coat pocket while Liam ushered her toward the fire. It wasn’t until he mentioned the small town’s sheriff’s name, that she put two and two together and realized that the house she had stumbled upon was the house of Graham’s boyfriend and she finally relaxed.

“He does?”

“Depending on how bad the last storm is, it takes your brother and him a few days to plow the whole town and the main road. After that, he plows his way down our road and Liam is no longer restricted.”

Folding her arms across her chest, she brings her mug up to take a sip and says with a small chuckle, “And let me guess, they are sickly sweet after not seeing each other for the whole winter?”

Killian snorts, his eyes rolling with a sparkle of amusement in them.

“Aye, straight out of a fairytale they are. Bloody birds singing and everything."

A genuine laugh falls from her lips—it’s the first one she can remember having in a while—as she shakes her head. “My brother and his wife are like that… when they first got together, they were on different schedules, so whenever they did see each other after long periods of time, it was like the world faded away around them and it was only ever a week, at most.”

“Imagine having to witness it after it being _months_.”

She winces, her voice dripping with remorse, “Yeah, I feel for you with that one.” They continue to gaze out onto the water before she lets out a sigh and admits, “I never got that. I mean, sure, you can miss someone, but to be so incredibly happy to see them that nothing else matters? It never made any sense to me.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then mumbles, “You and me both, lass.”

When she turns to look at him, his eyes find hers and it’s the first time she notices how blue they are. They remind her of the glass unicorn mobile that hung above her crib in the one and only picture she has of her and David from when they were young.

Moving her gaze down, she notices what looks to be silver bars on the bridge of his nose and she asks before thinking, “Is that a piercing?” When his brow furrows in question, she motions to her own nose and continues, “On your nose.” His body goes stiff. “Back in New York I knew a girl that got that done and she said—”  

“You should get inside.” He cuts in while turning his back to her. “The temperature drops with each hour.”

The finality in his voice makes her pause and it’s not until he’s bending down to pick up some of the logs that she snaps out of her surprise.

“O-Okay.” He stands and as he starts to walk away she calls out, “Well, your brother said he’s going to make—”

“I’m not hungry.”

He disappears around the side of the house and she makes her way back inside.  Walking into the kitchen, she sees Liam pulling a pan out from the stove before he offers her a smile.

“Is French toast alright with you?”

She blinks, his question taking a second to register before she nods, telling him that would be fine as she sits down at the kitchen table. Her gaze once again moves to the yard where she sees Killian walking back to the wood he’s chopped, his body seeming tenser than it was before, and she can’t help but feel that it’s her fault.

Maybe she approached asking him about his piercing the wrong way. She knows firsthand how personal body modifications can be—her eyes flicker down the buttercup on the inside of her wrist—and maybe he didn’t want to talk about it. Usually she’s more thoughtful about those type of things, but she swears all the fresh air is doing something to her brain. Not to mention it was the first time Killian was actually speaking to her and though it was brief, she found it easy and a little fun.

Emma jumps when the pot of coffee appears in front of her and she lets out a nervous chuckle as Liam fills her cup.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, sorry… just lost in my thoughts.”

She wraps her hands around her mug while Liam shrugs. “’S fine, Emma. Tends to happen out here.” He walks back to the stove and places the coffee pot down to pick up the spatula. “When I first moved out here, there were times my own thoughts would feel as if they were drowning me.”

“How did you manage to keep them at bay?” She asks while moving to set the table and quickly adds, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“When I found my thoughts getting the better of me and beginning to repeat themselves, I wrote them down. It might sound a bit strange, but it was as if once they were written, they left my head.”

With a smirk, she looks over her shoulder and teases, “So, it’s like a diary?”

He chuckles deep in his throat before shaking his head. “Not as such, no. At first it was merely short phrases—”

“You mean like ‘ _I will not kill my little brother_ ’ five hundred times?”

“More like a thousand,” he counters with a wink and they share a laugh. “I take it you heard our little quarrel last night, then?” The sound of Liam’s raised voice when Killian refused to join them for dinner the night prior flashes through her mind and she offers a weak smile as he shakes his head. “Apologies. It’s still a bit of an adjustment to have another person around.”

“Oh, you don’t have to apologize. It’s your house, you guys can do whatever you want. I’m just grateful for the bed.”

With another small chuckle, he nods, “Of course, Emma. We’re happy to help any way we can.”

She snorts. “I don’t think your brother feels the same way.”

Liam winces and she instantly regrets her words. Opening her mouth to explain, she’s cut off when he starts to speak, “I assure you, Emma, the way Killian is acting has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him. Though you may not see it, there’s no part of him that wishes for you to be stranded out in the cold. He was right in discouraging your attempts to leave the night you came here.”

“I wasn’t…” she trails off and runs a hand through her hair. “I didn’t mean anything by what I said. I mean, I get it… a random woman shows up on your doorstep and now you’re being forced to live with her for the foreseeable future, it’s jarring.”

She fidgets with the cloth napkin in her hand as he turns to her, a stern look on his face.

“You were a woman in need of help and as jarring as it may be, neither Killian nor I regret our decision.” A small smile tugs at her lips and he motions outside to his brother. “If it makes you feel any better, he’s not out there for my benefit.”

Frowning, she says, “He’s chopping wood for the fireplace.”

His eyes roll as he turns back to the stove.

“The last time I asked him to chop wood, he told me to ‘ _get off my fat arse’_ and do it myself.” She has to bite her lip to keep from giggling. “He can be a handful, but I shouldn’t allow my frustrations with him get the best of me while you’re around… it’s bad form. I’ll do my best to refrain in the future.”

Silence falls between them and she thinks about what she’s just learned as she finishes setting the table. If he’s really out there chopping wood for her benefit, why has he done nothing but act like her being there has been one big inconvenience?

It makes her wonder who Killian Jones really is…

“Writing,” she starts, not wanting to think about the youngest Jones anymore. “You said you write short phrases?”

“Aye, at first. It wasn’t until after I met Graham that it became more.”

Placing her hands on the back of a chair in front of the counter, she asks, “How’s that?”

There’s a pink to his cheeks that she mistakenly thinks is from the heat of the stove before he answers, “With us unable to see or speak to each other for nearly the entire winter season, it only seemed logical to write down the things I wished to speak to him about.”

“Are you telling me that what you write every morning is basically a long letter to Graham?” The sheepish smile he gives in answer makes her shake her head with a small chuckle, “Wow. I thought my brother and Mary Margaret were bad, but now I think you and Graham just surpassed them.”

He lets out a fully belly laugh, but before he can respond, the sliding glass door opens, and they turn to see Killian coming in. The scarf that was around his neck when she was outside is now in his hand as he uses it to wipe his face.

“Ah, little brother we were just about to—”

“I’m not hungry.”

He’s gone before anyone can argue and when Emma sees the look of anger on Liam’s face, she walks up to him and says, “David once told me I had the ability to make him madder than anyone in his entire life with just one look.”

Liam breathes out through his nose and jokes, “Must be a younger sibling trait.”

Her eyes roll despite the smile on her lips and she nods, “Must be.”

* * *

It’s a little after one in the morning when Emma decides she can no longer ignore her growling stomach and gets out of bed to go look for something to eat. The house is quiet, the only sound coming from the whistle of the wind outside as she walks down the grand stairs and she’s grateful for the thick wool socks that were loaned to her protect her feet from the coolness of the wood floor.

Her body aches slightly from not moving much, so she rolls her shoulders and groans at the tightness of her muscles. She probably shouldn’t have stayed in bed all day, but she woke up that morning with her period and decided it was better than trying to explain to the two men who were currently her roommates that her uterus was trying to kill her from the inside out.   

Walking into the kitchen, she flicks on the light and lets out a small sigh. It still feels a little weird helping herself to things in their house, but she’s hungry and if she’s going to be stuck there, she might as well start getting used to it. Going to the fridge, she’s about to open it when she notices a note on the front in handwriting that she’s sure is too perfect to be real:

**_There’s a plate in the microwave in case you get hungry._ **

She stares at it for a minute, trying to tell herself that Liam was the one who left it—just like with the pain killers that were left outside her door earlier—but after learning that _he’s_ been doing things lately that he normally wouldn’t, and all to make sure _she’s_ comfortable, she‘s having a hard time.

It’s not like she can ask since she hasn’t actually _seen_ Killian since their conversation in the backyard a few days prior, though she has heard him.

Every night, his bedroom door opens only moments after hers closes and every morning while she’s getting dressed, she hears him speaking to Liam. She wondered if he was purposely coming out at night when he knew that she was in her room, but after Liam came to check on her earlier, she heard his bedroom door open and brushed it off.

Shaking her head, she presses start on the microwave and taps her fingers against the counter as she waits. From the corner of her eye, she spots the book of crossword puzzles that’s usually in the living room and pulls it close. David was always better at them than her. When they lived together, he would do the one in the paper every Sunday over breakfast and she would always make fun of him when he would know a word that she was sure didn’t exist. Doodling in the corner, her eyes skim over the clues that are unanswered and stops.

**‘Capital of Florida’**

She knows the answer all too well—Tallahassee, the place Neal picked for them to run away to. She remembers how hesitant she was when he first brought it up. He thought it was because of money, when really, she didn’t want to be that far away from David, even if they weren’t talking. She didn’t tell him that, of course, because she rarely told him when things would bother her.

_“I mean,” Neal started after he took a bite of his pizza. “You can tell me about the things that bother you if you want… I just thought you really don’t let things get to you.”_

_“I don’t,” she announced proudly with a grin. “And I think you’re right, we don’t need to do that. We’re not that type of couple.”_

So, she kept her mouth shut and never said anything. Plus, he was right, they couldn’t afford to just up and move to Tallahassee, so there wasn’t any sense in worrying about it. Then he… did what he did, and she knew she had to leave. It still haunts her, every night she dreams about the story on the news and she can only hope that when she’s able to tell her brother what happened, that he’ll understand and be able to help.

The beeping of the microwave makes her jump and she breathes out a chuckle.

“Get it together, Nolan,” she mumbles to herself before moving to grab her plate.

She knows she has nothing to be scared of, there’s no way Neal could find her and though he probably assumes she’s gone to her brother’s, he’d be unable to follow due to the town being closed off, not that she thinks he would. It’s not like he knows she saw the news or that her disappearing is something new. Being a bail bonds person, she’s often called to pick up a skip at random times—day or night—and they sometimes take days, but it’s been over a week and she’s sure he knows by now that she’s left for good.

As she chews on her chicken parmigiana, Emma briefly wonders if he’s tried to call her and when her phone went right to voicemail, if he tried to call her brother, or if he just let it go and accepted her leaving. There’s a slight ache at that thought, not because she misses him, but because it makes her wonder if she’s so easy to let go of.

Picking up the pen, she pulls the crossword book to her and fills in the answer—ignoring the fact that the handwriting in the book matches the handwriting of the note—before turning back to her food. She finishes eating faster than normal and downs two glasses of water before she starts to clean up because if there’s one thing she’s learned in her short time at the Jones estate, it’s that the men like their house neat and clean. Not that she’s a messy person, it’s just that she doesn’t clean things up _right_ away and if she goes to bed with dishes left out, it’s no big deal. But it’s not her house and they are being nice enough to let her stay, so it won’t kill her to clean the dish once she’s done and put it back in its proper place.

Once she’s finished, Emma places the dish towel she used to dry her hands on the hook and moves to turn the light off when the basement door suddenly swings open.

“Shit!” She curses, her heart racing as Killian appears with his hoodie up. She waits until he pulls the earbuds from his ears to chuckle, “You scared the—”

 “Bloody hell!” He gasps, his head snapping up toward her as he jumps back slightly.

The light from the kitchen illuminates him and she sees that what she thought was a piercing actually runs up on his forehead and the ink she saw on the back of his neck runs all over the front of his face. It’s in that moment she realizes this is the first time she’s seeing his face fully without it being covered and she can’t help but study the vines.

They are… beautiful, in their own way, how they almost wrap around the scar tissue from what she assumes are previous wounds and fit on the curves of his face to run down his neck, disappearing in the dark hair that’s just barely poking out from the top of his tank top. A quick glance at his hands tells her they probably run down his arms as well, and she can’t help but wonder what the black ink means.

When she looks back to his face, she notices that his eyes are wide and her brow furrows. He looks… scared, like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing and she can see his entire body is tense.

“Hey, are you okay?” His lips part and he begins to shake. Taking a step forward, she moves to place her hand on his arm, but the second she touches him, he seems to jar out of whatever trance he’s in and yanks himself back until he hits the door, almost like her touch hurts him and she flinches. His breathing begins to pick up and she holds her hands up in front of her. “Killian, what’s wrong?”

Silence falls between them, the only sounds coming from the harsh breaths that are passing his lips as his eyes search her face. For a minute, she thinks he’s going to say something, maybe complain about her sneaking up on him again, or make a snarky comment about her roaming the house so late in the night… but he does none of that.

What he does shocks her and is something she least expects… he runs.


	5. Dear Prudence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not lying when I say this story wouldn’t be here without initial and idris. They kicked my ass and gave me encouragement when I needed it the most. You ladies are lovely.
> 
> Make sure check out the flipping amazing art coco did for me and show her the love she deserves. 
> 
> Please please make sure you go check out all the other stories included in csbb. They are all amazing and you won’t regret it, I assure you. 
> 
> I WILL BE IN NJ AT THE OUAT CON WHEN GUYS READ THIS. WISH ME LOVELY COLIN TIME :D 
> 
> Double line breaks mean change in POV

Emma has never been much of a runner. Sure, she works out to keep herself healthy and fit—it’s kind of a must in her line of work—but running is just… _the worst_. However, there are a lot of skips that like to run when they realize she’s there to turn them in, so she pushes down her distaste for the exercise and steps on a treadmill at least twice a week. Not that she’ll ever really admit it, but it also helps clear her head. When she’s on the treadmill with her earbuds in, her mind is free from thought and free from worry, and free from thinking about the next place she’s going to run to.

_Okay, so it’s just the physical act that I dislike._

It’s just as Chester Bennington’s voice belts out the chorus of _Breaking The Habit_ that she sees Liam come through the door. Pulling the headphones from her ears, she goes to offer him a smile when she notices the way his brows are pulled together and the frown on his face.

She moves her feet to the side rails of the treadmill and asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Have you seen Killian recently?” With her heart pounding from her run, she lifts the water bottle to her lips and raises an eyebrow in answer, making him sigh. “Figured as much.”

He mutters something under his breath too low for her to hear before turning to walk out of the room. Though it’s true that the thought of her seeing Killian before Liam is almost laughable, she’d be lying if she acted like she hadn’t noticed the lack of lurking being done by the youngest Jones. She just chalked it up to him avoiding her again, though now that she thinks about it, she hasn’t heard his door open at night, either.

Shaking her head, she stops the treadmill and gathers her things before following Liam up the stairs. After they ran into each other in the hall, she went back to her room where she stayed up for a long while just thinking about the look on his face. While it wasn’t the first time she’s caught him off guard—sneaking up on people is another must for her line of work—it was the first time he seemed genuinely frightened. Maybe it was because it was late and dark? Or maybe she looked worse than she thought because she hadn’t bothered to shower or brush her hair at all that day.

_If that’s the case, he’d probably find me terrifying now._

As she walks down the hall, she looks around for something to check her reflection and finds there’s… _nothing_. No mirrors, no glass doors… come to think about it, the only mirror she’s seen throughout the entire house is the one that’s on the medicine cabinet in the bathroom attached to her room. All others are just… she walks over to an empty frame that’s hanging on the wall leading to the living room and notices what appears to be a piece of broken glass in the corner.

“What the…” she mumbles to herself and reaches out to touch it, but then jumps back when she hears Liam’s booming voice echo from above.

“I’m not bloody talking to a door, Killian, now get your stubborn arse out here!”

Killian’s response is muffled by what she assumes is his door as he yells, “Leave me the fuck alone, Liam!”

Her eyes widen and when she looks up to the landing, she sees Liam push himself away from his brother’s door with a growl.

“Fine! Waste away inside that room all you bloody want! See if I give a damn!”

Liam stomps down the stairs muttering another string of curses under his breath and she watches as he turns to head into the dining room. For a quick second, she thinks about slinking up to her room before he sees her to get a shower and let him calm down a bit but decides against it, opting to follow him instead to make sure he’s okay.

Not that they are close enough for her to do that—she’s never really been close with anyone outside of David—but he’s done a lot for her in the two weeks since she’s showed up on their doorstep and the least she can do is lend an ear when he’s upset.

Walking into the dining room, she finds him by the bookcase against the side wall, flipping through the pages of a book with his jaw locked.

“You okay?”

With his eyes still on the book in his hands, he grumbles, “Bloody fantastic!” Pressing her lips together with a raised brow, she waits until he eventually snaps the book shut and turns to her while pointing upstairs, “This is the third day he’s refused to leave his room… did he really believe that I wouldn’t notice?”

“Wait… we ran into each other in the hall just the other night,” tilting her head, she mutters more to herself, “was that really three days ago?”

“Time does seem to blend together out here,” he sighs before opening the book again. “I thought he was merely in one of his moods, but after speaking to him…”

Placing her phone and towel on the table, she asks, “Did he say anything?”

“Apart from telling me to fuck off, you mean?” She winces at the sarcasm in his voice and he shakes his head. “Perhaps I’ve pissed him off in some way and he’s punishing me.”

“Punishing you?”

“Aye, wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Then why do you care?” His gaze moves back to her and she rolls her eyes. “I mean, I know he’s your brother and you obviously _care_ , but, if he’s going to act like a child when you’ve done nothing—”

His dry chuckle cuts her off as he nods and puts the book back on the shelf. “You’re quite right about that, lass. I’ve done nothing.” He moves to sit down at the table and motions for her to do the same. “Which is exactly why I care.” She tilts her head while he runs a hand through his hair and sighs, “Though it may be hard to believe, he wasn’t always like this.”

“You mean coarse and moody?”

“Aye,” his lips twitch as he nods. “Believe it or not, he was once a happy child. Our mother used to call him her little gentleman, said he was as sweet as candy, and he was. I can hardly recall a time when he wasn’t smiling.”

She can’t hide her surprise and Liam laughs.

“It’s true. Though, to be fair, there was much to smile about back then with my mother around. She was—” A wistful smile appears on his lips. “—she was wonderful. She raised us to have manners, to believe in good form, and to always be kind to others, something Killian took _very_ seriously.”

Emma smiles at his tone and says, “And with you being the older brother, I’m sure you took great pleasure in making fun of him for it.”

Rolling his eyes, Liam leans forward to place his arms on the table and shrugs.

“It _was_ my duty after all.” They share a laugh before his eyes move down to his hands. “And it would appear it was my father’s duty to chastise him for it.” She blinks as his tone darkens, “You see, our _father_ , he was never the nurturing type. It was success he was after, but he loved my mother. Loved her so much that he gave her exactly what she wanted… children, because he knew they balanced each other. Even though he looked at us as more of a hindrance than anything else. She was happy to be a stay at home mother, while he was happy to go to work at the business her father built.” His lips curl into a snarl. “That all changed when she passed away.”

She feels the all too familiar ache in the pit of her stomach, and the memories that she’s suppressed for eighteen years threaten to peek over the walls she’s built around them, but she pushes them down.

“Liam, you don’t…”

“Without my mother, there was no one there to rein my father in when he was too far gone and there was no one to tell him when he needed to put the business aside and be a father. At first I believed it was grief. I knew he loved her and losing her had just as much of an affect on him as it did us, but then he started to—” He stops mid sentence and shakes his head, almost like he’s trying to will the memories to go away. “When I left and didn’t take Killian with me, I knew what he was going to do, but my own fear over what Brennan would do to _me_ kept me away.” She wants to sob at the look of pure regret on his face. “I knew my father was going to take that sweet boy and twist him up to be just like him and I… did… _nothing._ ”

He falls back onto his chair, swiping at the corner of his eyes while she swallows back her emotions.

“Is that why you stay here with him?” She asks, her voice soft. “Why you’ve locked yourself away from the rest of the world?”

His gaze meets hers. “I failed him once… I won’t do it again.”

Silence falls between them and she takes a breath to calm her nerves. The feeling of regret is one she knows extremely well, though the way Liam explains it, it reminds her of David. Before she met Neal, she overhead David speaking to Mary Margaret one night after a botched blind date they tried to set her up on, about how he blamed himself for her being so unwilling to open up to others. He thought it was his fault that she didn’t trust anyone and she remembers how guilty she felt.

_She_ was the failure, not him. He was the one person in her life that loved her unconditionally and she had been nothing but a disappointment. Maybe that’s how Killian feels? She’s never spoken to him, never seen him show anything but annoyance, but he’s always done whatever his brother’s asked of him, even if he did follow it with a grumble. It’s only when she’s around that he stops talking altogether or decides to leave the room.

“Maybe it’s not because of you,” she starts suddenly, the thought just coming to her. “Maybe it’s because of me.” He tries to interrupt, but she holds up her hand to stop him. “No, Liam, if he’s not telling you it might be because he doesn’t want to put you in the middle. Maybe me being here has gotten to be a little too much for him.”

She thinks back to when she was twelve, when her and David were sent to live with a foster family that had five other children living with them at the time and how it was all just _too much_. She couldn’t breathe without someone looking at her and in every room she walked into there was always a person who would either make fun of her or who would be so loud she couldn’t think. So, she would lock herself away for a few hours in her tiny room that she shared with another girl just to get some peace. Maybe Killian is doing the same thing…

Liam’s brow furrows. “You’ve been here near two weeks, why would it all of a sudden—” He stops and his eyes go wide. “Wait, you mentioned running into each other?”

“Uh, yeah, in the hall. I woke up in the middle of the night hungry and came down to get something to eat. When I was finished, he was just coming up from working out.”

“And you… _saw_ him?”

His eyes search her face.

“Yes.” She answers slowly. “I told you, he was coming up from working out and we ran into each other.”

“Bloody hell,” he sighs before placing his elbows on the table and drops his head into his hands. “That explains everything.”

“It does?”

She watches as he lifts his head and swipes at the corners of his mouth.

“Do you mind if I ask what happened after that?” His voice is hesitant, almost like he’s afraid of her answer.

The memory of bright blue eyes staring at her flashes through her mind and she frowns.

“Nothing. I mean, I kind of scared him because he had his headphones in and didn’t hear me. But when I tried to ask him if he was okay, he just… ran.”

“ _He_ ran?” She nods and he closes his eyes. “And what did you do?”

“He ran, Liam, what do you think I did… why is this a big deal?” His head snaps up to her and her brows raise to her hairline at his shocked expression. “What?”

His burst of laughter makes her jump and her confusion only grows when he leaps forward to cup her face before pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Oh, Emma, sweetheart, I’m so glad you’re here with us.”

“Why are you acting so strange?” She asks with a frown, despite the large smile still plastered on his face.

Her frown only deepens when he giggles— _giggles_ —and she finds herself even more confused than before.

“Apologies, I’ve just…” he trails off with a smile, before continuing, “I finally see light on the horizon.”

* * *

* * *

_Killian lays back with his eyes closed as he allows the bliss he’s feeling to wash over him._

_“I want you,” Emma breathes out while her lips drag down his throat, her fingers tickling the hair on his chest._

_Smirking, he runs his fingers down her arms in a slow, soft manner, making her moan his name breathlessly and making him impossibly hard. He was taught at a young age to enjoy the sound of his name and he’s come to love the way it sounds coming from Emma’s lips._

_“Most women do.”_

_Her skin feels softer than the finest silk in all the world and when she mewls in frustration over his teasing touches, a small smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. She moves up until she’s hovering over him, her blonde hair creating a curtain around their heads and he wiggles his eyebrows at her._

_Her pout is one of the sexiest things he’s ever seen and he pokes his tongue out to trace her jaw before he purposely rubs his scruff against her as he whispers, “Patience, love.”_

_The sweet scent of apples invades his senses and he nips at her pulse, his smirk widening when he hears her gasp in surprise._

_“Killian.”_

_He groans at the feel of her fingers tangling in his hair and the way she grinds down onto him tells him she’s nearly close to begging._

_“Want something, sweetheart?”_

_“You… please.”_

_Brushing his lips against hers, he grasps the back of her neck and whispers, “You have me.”_

_“I’m flattered.”_

_He pulls back a fraction of an inch to look in her eyes._

_“You should be.”_

_They both moan as their lips connect—she tastes like vanilla—before he pushes himself up._

_“Don’t y-you… don’t you have to work on your boat?”_

_“Aye,” he answers, while ripping his shirt over his head, his ego swelling when her eyes widen with lust. “But a woman as beautiful as you deserves my full and prompt attention.”_

_She begins to unbutton his pants while biting her bottom lip._

_“And a man as good looking as you should know he doesn’t need all this lip service.”_

_He chuckles—the praise is one he’s received many times before but one he’ll never tire of hearing—and pushes his pants down past his hips. Their clothing disappears in the blink of an eye and when he pushes up into her, his eyes roll into the back of his head. Her moans egg him on and when she falls over the edge, it’s with praises to him and the pleasure he’s giving her whispered in his ear._

_The feel of her walls fluttering around him is too much and when she moans about how good he is for what seems to be the hundredth time, he thrusts up one final—_

Killian’s hips rut into the mattress and when his eyes pop open, his body is still shuddering from the release it was just given. Pushing himself up, he looks down to find both his sheets and pajama pants wet. Letting out a frustrated huff, he flips over onto his back and pinches the bridge of his nose.

Coming to terms with the fact that he’ll never again feel the touch of a woman, he’s grown accustomed to using his hand to find pleasure, but having wet dreams nearly every night since Emma Nolan showed up on their doorstep has become tiring. It’s as if he’s an overeager lad who can barely control himself around the first beautiful woman he’s come across in three years.

With a small growl, he rips the covers off and jumps out of bed.

It’s humiliating having to go through the same motions as he did when he was young, though there is some irony that it’s once again happening while he lives with his brother. He remembers how Liam caught him attempting to secretly wash his sheets, how he was forced to embarrassingly admit what happened, and how he was then shown how to properly clean them without anyone being aware.

_“It happens, little brother,” Liam told him as they made his bed. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”_

_With his cheeks flaming, he mumbled, “Father wouldn’t think so.”_

_Liam sighed, his hands smoothing out the sheet before he stood straight._

_“Father will never know. It shall be our secret.”_

Shaking his head, he moves to the bathroom attached to his room and turns the shower on. As he washes himself, he tries to plan what he’s going to do for the day, but with having finished his book last night—along with his rum—he doesn’t have many options.

_Not to mention that you’re out of food_.

He ignores the rumble in his stomach and hangs his head, allowing the water to cascade down the back of his neck. He doesn’t look forward to waiting until the dead of the night to eat something, especially since it’s just barely eight in the morning. There’s a voice in the back of his head that tells him he’s being ridiculous, but he ignores it as he catches sight of the black ink on his arm.

It was stupid to think that only leaving his room at night would work, but after she had caught sight of his nose, he panicked and wasn’t thinking clearly. Waiting until her door shut at night to roam around the house seemed logical, but that day she wasn’t feeling well, he took advantage and was punished for it… he shakes his head with a huff and continues to scrub at his skin, perhaps a little too harshly, but what’s another scar?

Killian thinks about what happened when he and Emma ran into each other as he dries himself off and it makes his heart race. She didn’t scream the way Milah had, and she didn’t jump back in horror like his father, she just… stared.

He’s not sure which is worse.

It’s just as he’s pulling up his pants that he hears the knock on his bedroom door and he bites back a curse. While it appeared his brother had decided to leave him be, he knew it was only a matter of time before he returned.

The knocking continues, and he gives a small growl, “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, give me a moment.” He hears Liam say something, but it’s muffled by the door and he finishes tying the drawstring on his lounge pants before walking over to it, “Aye, what is it?”

“May I come in?” He blinks, and opens his mouth to respond when Liam continues, “I’m alone.”

He’s hit with a rush of guilt at his brother’s words because not once has he ever thought that he would attempt to trick him into revealing himself with another person present. Even with Graham, he was understanding, patient, and waited to bring the Sheriff around until Killian was ready. So having him feel the need to express that he’s alone makes him wince.

Unlocking his door, he takes a step back and waits until his brother steps inside to ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Emma has offered to—” He sees Liam look to the bare bed with a furrowed brow. “What happened to your sheets?”

“I spilled my rum,” Killian lies as he moves to his dresser for a shirt. “Emma has offered what now?”

“Are you going to launder them?”

With a sigh, he pulls the Henley over his head and shrugs, “Eventually.”

“And where’s your comforter?” Shifting his head to his right side, he opens his mouth, but Liam cuts him off, “Did you give that to her as well?”

“You know as well as I do there’s a draft in that room, do you want the lass getting sick while she’s here?” His brother tilts his head. “What?”

“Nothing,” he answers quickly--too quickly. “I-I was unaware that you cared, is all.”

“I don’t,” Killian answers, dryly.

“Of course not, why else would you give her your down comforter and extra clothing to insure that she’s warm?” Annoyance tickles the back of his throat while Liam continues, “Those are your hoodies she’s been wearing around the house, are they not?”

When he sees the look on Liam’s face, he growls, “What did you want again?”

“Emma is cooking breakfast and I’d like for you to join us.”

“I’ll pass.”

He walks over to grab the sheets from off the ground as Liam sighs.

“Surely it must be driving you mad staying locked up in this room all the time.”

It was, though he’ll never admit it.

He throws a forced smirk over his shoulder and says, “Nope. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Are you just going to keep yourself locked away until she’s gone? Is that your plan?”

Rolling the sheets up into his arms, he mumbles, “Perhaps.”

There’s a long pause and when Liam finally responds, his voice is not dripping with anger like Killian expects, but sorrow.

“Little brother, this is the first time I’ve seen you in a week. Please come down stairs.”

Clenching his jaw, he drops the sheets into his hamper and keeps his back to Liam.

“Younger,” he corrects. “And I’m not hungry.”

He waits for the argument, the anger, he waits for his brother to start screaming, but nothing happens. There’s no begging, there’s no trying to reason with him, Liam simply mumbles okay before he leaves the room.

Sitting down on the edge of his bed, Killian drops his head into his hands with a sigh. How does he explain to his brother what happened and that he’s frightened that Emma’s staring had just been a fluke, that if she saw him again, she might scream and he couldn’t handle it? He expected it with Graham, he had given Liam permission to tell him what happened before he saw him, but with Emma? She’s a young woman stuck in a house with a monster… she’d have every right to scream and he’s too much of a coward to handle it.

 

* * *

* * *

 

With her tongue poking out of the side of her mouth, Emma pushes herself up onto her toes and gives a small cheer of success when she’s finally able to grasp the box in the back. She spotted it days ago when she got so bored that she scrubbed the kitchen clean and decided it was time to switch things up.

When she was little, whenever she had a bad day, David would always wake her up the next morning with pancakes and the sweet taste always made her feel better. She’s hoping they will do the same for Liam, because despite him acting like everything is fine, she can tell that Killian still refusing to leave his room is getting to him. She tries not to ask about them—it’s none of her business—but she’s caught him on more than one occasion coming out of the closed off brother’s room and the stress he carries with him after can be spotted from a mile away.

Hearing his steps in the hall, she quickly turns to greet him with a smile.

“Hey, so are pancakes—” His eyes are red rimmed, and he startles at her presence, reaching up to quickly swipe at them. “Are you okay?”

“Aye.” His smile is forced along with his chuckle. “Blasted allergies.” If his lame excuse didn’t tell her he was lying, she’d be able to pick up on it by the way he averts his gaze and rubs at the back of his neck. “What were you saying?”

“Uh, I…  I was just going to ask if you were okay with pancakes?”

She watches as he walks forward, a small smile on his face.

“Sounds delicious. I’m usually only allowed such a privilege on my birthday.” She raises both her brows in amusement and he laughs. “Killian is very particular about sweets and sugars, so I tend to cook what he likes… though, on my birthday, he can kiss my arse.”

“I’m assuming he won’t be joining us, then?”

“No, he won’t,” he mumbles, his gaze once again moving to the ground. When he looks back up to her, she can see fresh tears are glistening in his eyes and it takes all her strength not to march upstairs and punch Killian Jones right in his face. “I’m just going to check on something,” his voice cracks as he motions to the laundry room. “I’ll be only a moment.”

Liam disappears from the kitchen and when she hears the soft click of the door, it takes her about two seconds to move. Placing the box of pancake mix on the counter, she all but runs to the stairs. She knows that she probably shouldn’t, if some stranger were to approach her about something that happened between her and David, she’d flip out, but she can’t sit back any longer, not when Liam’s like this. She could deal with the anger, hell, she deals with her own anger every day… _that_ she understands, but seeing him upset to the point of tears? No… she can’t deal with that.

When she gets to Killian’s door, she lifts her hand to knock, but pauses. It’s not really her place… sure, Liam is her friend—well, forced friendship since they are forced roommates—but he’s Killian’s _brother_. Should she really get in between that? Taking a step back, she bites her bottom lip, deciding that she’ll just let it go, when she remembers how Liam is currently hiding in a laundry room all so she won’t see him cry because his brother refuses to spend any time with him.

The sound of her fist on his bedroom door echoes and she attempts to keep her voice even as she calls out, “Killian, it’s Emma.”

A minute passes and when he doesn’t respond, she knocks again before leaning in closer to listen. She knows he’s in there, he’s _always_ in there, he doesn’t fucking leave and—

She blinks when she sees the shadow of his feet on the floor and rolls her eyes.

“I know you’re there, I can see the reflection of your feet under the door!” They appear to move back slightly, but she can still see them. “We need to talk!”

Another moment passes and her frustration hits its peak.

“Seriously?! You’re just going to ignore me?” Silence. “I’m not going anywhere until you speak to me!”

_Be calm, Emma, just talk to him rationally and everything will be fine._

“What do you want?”

The harshness of his tone makes her eyes widen.

_Oh, no, he did not…_

“I want to talk about the shitty way you’re treating your brother!”

“ _Excuse_ me?”

She winces at his harsh tone, though she stands firm.

“Just because you’re in a fucking mood and have a bug up your ass doesn’t mean you can just treat people anyway you want!”

“How I handle my brother is hardly any of your concern!” He growls and though he’s _right_ , his response only pisses her off more.

It’s like he doesn’t even care that his brother is actively having to choose between them and it’s not right.

“Oh, it’s my concern when _I’m_ the one that sees what your actions are doing.”

“You have no idea—”

She cuts him off before he has a chance to explain any further.

“You shit on the efforts your brother tries to make with you all because—”

The door suddenly rips open and she stumbles back, unaware that she had been standing so close as a gasp of surprise falls from her lips. Something that smells _amazing_ hits her—a sort of spice with a hint of fresh cotton—because he’s obviously just taken a shower and she briefly wonders if they _all_ have private bathrooms. Shaking her head, she looks back up to his face and with full daylight, she’s able to see him properly for the first time.

The black ink that’s on his face runs not only down his body, but up and over his smooth head and breaks off into tiny branches curving around more scar tissue. More designs swirl on the side of his head, moving toward the back and she has the sudden urge to ask him to turn so she can see the rest, but clips her mouth shut.

“What is it you were saying?”

His voice makes her eyes snap up to his and she finds him scowling, his jaw tense as he glares and she gives him one back in return.

“I was _saying_ you think of nothing but yourself!” He steps forward in what she assumes is a menacing way and she almost balks. “Whatever you’re trying to do, it’s not going to work.”

“And why is that?”

She raises her eyebrow. “Because I’m not scared of you.”

He takes a step back, a look of surprise crossing his features and her brow furrows. Was he really trying to intimidate her? Did he think that would actually work?

“Look, whatever your problem is with me, you need to get over it.”

The scowl on his face slowly transforms into a look of annoyance as he lifts his shoulder, his voice dripping with boredom, “I don’t have a problem with you.”

She clenches her fists and cries out, “You clearly do!” Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she starts again with her voice lower, “And to be honest, it’s kind of insulting that you assume that I wouldn’t notice.”

From the corner of her eye, she sees his fist tighten around the door handle before he mumbles, “Believe what you wish.”

Sucking in another deep breath, she folds her arms across her chest to keep from punching him in his stupid jaw that’s perfectly cut and says, “I’m going to let you in on a little secret. I’m pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me.”

His eyes sparkle with amusement while his lips appear to twitch and her anger only grows because for some reason, his sarcasm pisses her off more than him being a jerk. Killian shifts his weight so he’s almost leaning against the door and smirks.

“Is that so?”

“Yes!”

“I don’t have a problem with you… _Swan_.”

She opens her mouth to respond only to stop when she realizes what he called her and for a moment, she’s stunned into silence. First, he ignores her like she doesn’t exist, then, he locks himself away in his room just to avoid her, now he calls her by the wrong _name?_

“It’s _Emma_. Where the hell did you come up with swan?”

He turns and she thinks he’s going to close the door without answering, but before she can move to stop him, he turns back holding something up between them.

“It is you who is doodling swans all throughout this, is it not?”

He lets the object drop and she fumbles for a second before it falls safely into her hands. It’s the crossword puzzle book she’s seen lying around the house and her cheeks tint. Ever since she was little, when her mind wanders, she tends to doodle, and it’s always swans. Unconsciously, she reaches up to finger the pendant hanging from her necklace and presses her lips together.  

“I was just…” she trails off, her voice low as she thumbs the pages, eyeing one of the small swans in the corner when she’s hit with a thought. “Wait.” Her eyes snap back up to him. “Is _that_ why you don’t like me? Because I doodled in your book?” He doesn’t respond, instead, he seems to go stiff and she gives a dry chuckle while shaking her head. “You know if you—”

For some reason, it’s then she takes notice to the pants he’s wearing and it makes everything come to a screeching halt, because they are the exact match to the flannel shirt _she’s_ wearing. It all falls into place and she’s hit with the knowledge that everything she’s believed since the moment she showed up on their doorstep has been _wrong._

The blanket, the hoodies, the other warm clothing—including the shirt she was wearing—that had all been left on her bed the first night… she assumed they were left by Liam, because why would Killian be the one offering her his things when he couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as her?

Blinking, she looks back up to him, her brow furrowed in confusion when she sees how uncomfortable he looks. Almost like he hadn’t meant for her to put two and two together…

_Probably never thought you’d come knocking on his door when he put the matching pants on._

She goes to ask him about it when something chimes from behind him making his entire body go stiff. The discomfort she saw before is replaced with what seems to be fear and he starts to squirm slightly. Shaking her head, her fingers tighten around the crossword puzzle book and she continues with a softer tone, though there’s still a hint of frustration that lingers.

“Your brother is upset about you locking yourself away all this time. He thinks it’s because of him… that he’s done something wrong…”

“If my brother feels this way, he should speak to me himself.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Maybe he doesn’t because the last time he tried you told him to fuck off.” He at least has the decency to look a little bit ashamed and she holds back her fist pump. “Look, I know I’ve only been here for a few weeks, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out your brother is a bit of perfectionist, which means if something goes wrong, he’s blaming himself… and despite the fact that you’ve done nothing but act like a colossal _dick_ —” She notes how his eyebrow ticks up in amusement. “—I know you’re a good person and you don’t want to see him hurting.” The last part comes out softer than she intends, and she sees his body relax. “I’m not saying we have to be the best of friends, hell, we don’t have to be friends at all, but until the snow melts, I’m stuck here. Which means we need to figure out how to coexist together… for your brother’s sake.” He tilts his head back, a soft sigh falling past his lips while she finishes, “He shouldn’t be forced to choose who to spend time with anymore.”

Before he can respond, she walks off and doesn’t look back. There’s a tiny part of her that second guesses confronting him, but when she gets to the kitchen and finds that Liam is still in the laundry room, she quickly wipes away any doubt. Placing the crossword puzzle book down on the counter next to the oven, she reaches for the box of pancake mix and rips it open.

Killian probably won’t listen to her, but it’ll get him thinking, and maybe he’ll at least start to come back out at night to spend time with his brother now.

“Do you need any help from me?”

She looks up from the mixing bowl to see Liam walk in, his face fresh, eyes no longer shining with unshed tears, and a smile on his face.

“If you want to set the table… I can take care of the rest.”

He tries to argue, but she fixes him with a stern look that makes him hold his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, lass.”

Emma listens as Liam tells her about the upcoming storm and she finds it fascinating that even though they are so disconnected from the outside world, they’ve still managed to find ways to keep themselves in the know.

“They only cover the ships with tarps when a storm is coming.”

“Wouldn’t they be worried about the weight of the snow causing damage?”

“They place the tarp on an angle—” Her head snaps over to the entryway of the kitchen to see Killian standing there. He’s put his hoodie on, and though the hood is up over his head, it’s not pulled down as low as he used to be. “—so the snow slides off and into the water.”

“Killian.” Liam gasps and she doesn’t have to be looking at him to know his face is showing pure shock.

Silence falls between them until the younger Jones finally clears his throat.

“I heard there’s breakfast.”

She blinks and it’s not until he raises his eyebrow that she nods.

“Y-Yes…” she clears her throat. “Yes, should be ready in a few minutes.”

He presses his lips together and walks forward. For a moment, she thinks he’s going to walk right into her, and she leans back. However, he simply slaps his hand down—a little harder than necessary—and keeps his eyes locked with hers as he slides the crossword puzzle book off the counter. Rolling her eyes, she turns back to the oven and only lets the left side of her lips tug up after he’s walked away.

She hears the stool scrape across the tile floor and when she looks out of the corner of her eye, she sees Liam staring like his brother is a ghost before Killian grumbles, “Bloody hell, Liam, shut your trap before you drool all over the place.”

A snort comes from the back of her throat before she can catch it, though when she notices Killian looking at her, she quickly covers it with a cough, and moves her eyes back down the pan.

“It’s good to see you moving about,” Liam whispers.

Pretending she doesn’t hear them, she continues to cook the pancakes while biting her bottom lip. She hears Killian shift in his seat and though she can feel his eyes on her, she keeps her gaze down.

“Perhaps I just needed reminding that I could.”

* * *

The snow starts in the afternoon, falling slow and light, the salt Liam spread not allowing it to stick fully to the ground. But as the day moves on, it begins to get heavier and by the time twilight rolls around, the stone of their back porch is completely covered.

Folding her arms across her chest, Emma sucks in a deep breath and looks out the back door. The heavy snow makes it almost impossible to see the lights of the town across the water, but every so often, she’ll see a flicker and it makes her wonder how an entire town could live like this.

Yes, it snowed in the city, but a bad storm would make things stop for a day, at most, then it was back to normal with only minor inconveniences, whereas Liam and Killian became housebound for an undetermined amount of time. Why would they purchase a house with that knowledge? Sure, Storybrooke basically shut down during the winter, but with a house _in town_ , they’d at least be able to move about and interact with others… then she remembers how Killian tried to lock himself away all so he wouldn’t have to interact with her and she quickly pushes down that thought.

As she continues to watch the snow fall, her thoughts wander—as they often seem to do—to Killian Jones.

So far, it would appear he’s taken her advice—three days in a row he’s come out of his room, made an effort to show himself and though he still barely talks to her, he will spend time with her and Liam. They haven’t become instant friends—not that she expected them to—but they are cordial, and that’s good enough for her. Especially when it makes Liam happier.

Turning away from the back door, she decides to go find something to keep herself occupied when she nearly runs into Killian in the hall.

“Bloody hell.” he gasps, his hood falling slightly back from the top of his head. His body tenses for a quick moment like it always does when they come face to face before he huffs, “Are you incapable of making noise when you move about, Swan?”

She ignores his bland tone and rolls her eyes at the use of her new nickname. He does it to get a rise out of her and she refuses to let him win.

“Want me to wear a collar with a little bell on it?”

“If it would keep you from lurking about, aye, perhaps.”

“You’re one to talk.”

He clenches his jaw at her raised eyebrow before shaking his head.

“Liam is going to start a fire and I’ve pulled out candles in case we lose power.” She looks down to see he’s pushing two tall candlesticks into her hands. “You’ll want to place these in your room to be on the safe side.”

“Because you’ve never heard of flashlights?” The only response she gets is his blank expression and she blinks. “That was a joke— you know what, nevermind.” She sighs. “Maybe I’ll just go to sleep so I don’t have to wait it out. You wouldn’t happen to have anything to knock me out, would you?”

There’s an upturn of his lips and his mouth opens like he’s going to say something before he quickly snaps it shut and takes a step back.

Her brow furrows as he spits out quickly, “Rum, I’ve got rum.”

Oh, she knows _all_ about the rum, and while she’s no stranger to having a drink, she’s never drank an entire bottle in two days. Two glasses and she’s usually good, but Killian? She saw him drink nearly half a bottle the other night before staggering up the stairs to bed.

“Is rum your answer to everything?”

He reaches up to scratch behind his ear with his lips pressed together in a tight smile and mumbles, “Never hurts,” before he’s brushing past her to head down into the basement.

It’s not the weirdest encounter they’ve had since he’s come out of hiding—he at least spoke in full sentences before walking off—so she puts in the win column and walks down the hall toward the stairs. Liam is in the living room preparing a fire and she tells him she’ll be ready for a game of chess in a moment, before going up to her room.

She places the candles on the dresser before giving a quick glance to her phone, more out of habit than anything. She doesn’t carry it around with her anymore; with no reception, there’s really no point, but she still can’t help but check it, though she’s learned not to be disappointed anymore when she doesn’t see a message from her brother.

Moving over to the chair in the corner, she grabs her—well, _Killian’s_ —hoodie and pulls it on as she makes her way back toward the stairs. Rounding the corner, she hears a chime coming from down the hall past the stairs and stops. It’s the same chime she heard the day she confronted Killian and now that she isn’t distracted, she finds herself wondering what it is. It sounds almost like a… _ringing_ of some kind, like the ringing from a phone and she presses her lips together.

Surely, he wouldn’t keep a phone from her? Wouldn’t keep a way for her to contact someone—

When it chimes again, she moves without thinking and rounds the corner to head toward Killian’s room. It becomes louder the closer she gets and when she’s in front of his room, she peeks over the banister to make sure no one is coming before moving to the door. The chiming stops as soon as she slips into the room and she bites her lip while looking around. His room is extremely clean—a lot cleaner than she expected—and _huge_. Not to mention, _everything_ looks expensive. The upholstered headboard is black and tops the king size bed that’s smack in the middle of the left wall, flanked on either side by what she thinks are black marble nightstands. There’s a leather couch in the corner with a shirt thrown over the back and a desk next to the bay window. Curiosity gets the best of her when she spots two picture frames on the desk and she can’t help but walk over to look at them. One is a photo of two young boys, both with a fishing rod in one hand and a fish in the other. A smile pulls at her lips at the sight of young Killian because despite the fact that Liam is obviously the older and taller boy, Killian’s eyes give him away. They are just as blue in that photo as they are now and she’d be able to pick them out anywhere. Looking to the next photo, her brow furrows when she sees it’s a picture of a woman staring out a window while she sits on a rocking chair. Her face is tilted down, her light brown, curly hair falling over her forehead and there’s a soft smile on her face. The loud chime catches her off guard, and she jumps, making her heart pound in her chest, not expecting the sound to be so close.

“Damn,” she chuckles to herself.

Looking down, her shoulders sag when she finds nothing but an old pocket watch laying there and not a phone. The door to the watch face is open and when she picks it up, she can see a just barely bloomed rose in the middle with roman numerals surrounding it and she finds it sort of… beautiful.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?”

Her head snaps over to find Killian standing in the doorway with his eyes narrowed into slits and his hands clenched at his sides. Trying to find words, her mouth opens and closes as she slowly shakes her head. What the fuck was she going to tell him? She came into his room because she thought he might have been hiding a working cell phone? Blinking, she moves a fraction of a step forward to say something when the pocket watch chimes again and she jumps in surprise, making it slip from her fingers. Time seems to slow as the watch falls through the air, still chiming until it hits the floor with a soft thump. With her eyes wide, she looks back up just in time to see Killian doing the same, looking angrier than she has ever seen him before.

“I’m sorry, I was—” He stomps forward, and she unconsciously moves to the side, accidently stepping on the watch in the process. The sound of a crack rings out loudly through the quiet room and she curses, “Shit, I didn’t see it!”

Bending down, she goes to grab it when she suddenly feels his fingers wrap tightly around her left arm, and it starts. First, the black spots appear in her vision as her stomach begins to turn. Next, her chest feels like it’s crushing her lungs and it takes every ounce of energy she has to suck in one deep breath. Killian seems to be saying something, but she can barely hear anything over the ringing in her ears. She pulls her arm away so hard, that when he lets go without a fight, she falls back onto the edge of the bed with a bounce, the feeling of dread and fear overtaking her.

“Leave.” His voice finally breaks through the fog and she squeezes her eyes shut, attempting to calm herself when she hears him yell, “I said _leave_!”

She’s moving before his voice can echo off the walls and doesn’t even notice when her shoulder bumps against the doorframe. Her heart is just about to pound through her chest by the time she reaches the bottom of the stairs and all she can think about is how she needs to get out… she needs to run.

“Emma, are you alright?”

Liam moves toward her and her shoulders curl in as she backs away again shaking her head. She tries to talk, tries to tell him she needs to leave, but it comes out stuttering and hardly makes sense. He tries to argue with her, but the longer she stands there, the more closed in she feels and when he goes to reach for her, she pushes past him and rips open the front door.

The cold wind barely registers, and she slips on the last step, making her almost fall into the snow, but she keeps moving forward. Suddenly, she’s thrust back to when she was thirteen and she came home from school to find that David wasn’t there. Mr. Hannigan was drunk, like usual, and when she asked where her brother was, he told her he left and wasn’t coming back. She remembers how he taunted her when she started to get upset, telling her that David left because she was bad and when she tried to run, he grabbed her arm, laughing as he broke it while continuing to tell her that she was all alone. Later at the hospital, he laughed again when David showed up, telling her she was stupid for believing him.

Feeling her muscles lock up, she trips and falls down into the snow, her breathing still erratic while her heart thumps. It’s been ages since she’s had this bad of a panic attack and with nothing but the wind whipping her in the face she hopes that—

“Are you bloody well insane?!” Killian’s voice yells from behind her and she becomes even more tense. “It’s a damn blizzard! Where do you think you’re going?!”

Emma wraps her arms around her stomach and clenches her jaw.

“G-Go a-away!” She manages to hiss out through chattering teeth, whether it’s from the cold or her attack, she’s not sure.

There’s a moment where he doesn’t say anything and she thinks he’s gone until she hears the crunch of his footsteps in the snow coming closer and what little relief she had disappears, making her throat once again tighten.

“Look, Swan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to leave… you were—what’s wrong? What’s happened?” He’s right behind her now and she ducks her chin into her chest, her shoulders curling further into her body as the black spots blind her vision again. “Are you hurt?”

It takes what seems like hours but is really only minutes for her to unlock her jaw and stutter, “L-Lea-ave m-me a-a-alo…” The gripping fear that’s overtaking her doesn’t let her finish and she sinks further into the snow.

She doesn’t understand why he isn’t leaving, why he’s still there and it’s making everything worse. Most people leave… they run as soon as they see her in mid-attack and it helps because not even David can calm her, she has to do it herself, and with him not leaving…

The sound of him moving in the snow again makes her jaw unlock and she thinks he’s finally going to lea—

_“When I find myself in times of trouble… mother Mary comes to me… speaking words of wisdom… let it be.”_

She blinks, his voice ringing out over the wind and it takes her a moment to realize that he’s… singing. Forcing herself to look over her shoulder, in the barely lit night, she sees Killian kneeling behind her. His brows are pulled together and there’s a deep frown on his lips.

_“And in my hour of darkness… she is standing right in front of me…”_

His voice is hauntingly low, filled with what she thinks is anxiety and though it has a slight shake to it, he continues on.

_“... speaking words of wisdom… let it be.”_

The snow continues to rain down on them, and her jeans are almost completely soaked, but she doesn’t move, because with each note that he sings, her muscles seem to unlock and the pains in her chest start to become less.

_“Let it be… let it be… let it be… let it be… whisper words of wisdom… let it be._ ”


	6. Nowhere Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I owe so much to @initiala, @idristardis, and @cocohook38 that I could never repay. You ladies rock! 
> 
> Please please make sure you go check out all the other stories included in @captainswanbigbang. They are all amazing and you won’t regret it, I assure you. 
> 
> You guys blow me away with your love for this story. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart!

Killian’s tying the laces of his boots when there’s a knock at his bedroom door. For a moment, he’s thrust back to when a knock on his door led to a tongue lashing from a certain blonde and his lips twitch. Never in his wildest dreams did he think she was going to come to him, as far as he knew, she’d never come to the west side of the house before—then again, he never thought he’d go chasing after her in the middle of a snow storm, either.

The door opens before he can say anything, and Liam walks through with a smile on his face.

“Morning, little brother.”

Rolling his eyes, he grumbles, “Younger.” When he’s finished tying the second boot, he looks up to see Liam’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“Your room is a mess.”

His jaw ticks as he looks around, it’s not a _mess_ , though because he’s found himself distracted lately it’s not as clean as he usually keeps it.

“I was unaware you were worried about the state of my room.”

“Are you going to clean it?”

“I’ll get to it, Liam. Honestly, must you begin the moment you clap eyes on me?”

Liam’s face softens and after a moment, he mumbles, “Apologies.” He moves to sit next to Killian and sighs. “I’ve had a headache all morning and with the storm continuing… I have a feeling tonight's going to be the night we lose power. I’ve informed Emma that we usually sleep in the living room for the heat from the fire place… are you okay with that?”

Lifting his brow in confusion, he asks, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just… after what happened last night, I wasn’t sure how things were between the two of you.”

Killian sighs and pushes himself off the bed to walk over to his closet. After he finished with the song, they knelt in the snow for a few more minutes before she finally stood and even then, he didn’t move until she motioned to the house. They walked back, neither saying a word, both shivering from their clothes being drenched from the waist down and when Liam asked if everything was all right, she all but ran up the stairs.

He hasn’t seen her since.

Ripping his hoodie from out of his closet, he says, “Don’t act daft, brother. You know perfectly well I haven’t seen her yet.”

“She seems well this morning… apologized for making a scene. I told her there’s nothing to be sorry for… do you agree?”

He turns back to Liam as he puts his hoodie on and gives him a look. His brother hadn’t asked what happened and Killian didn’t tell him—it wasn’t his business—though he can tell Liam is still somewhat nervous on what the outcome is going to be.

“Obviously.”

Not missing the small sigh of relief that comes from his brother, he adjusts his hood and pulls the zipper up as Liam starts again, “I’m glad. It would be nice to see your relationship with her progress.”

“Relationship?” He asks, his voice dripping with confusion.

With a rather smug grin, Liam says, “I told you that there’s no use in hiding away from others…”

Killian huffs while leaning back against his dresser. “Just because one—”

“Two,” he cuts in. “Two people… Graham _and_ Emma.”

Giving his brother a blank stare, Killian waits a moment before beginning again, “Just because _two_ people didn’t run, doesn’t mean the rest won’t.” He holds up his hand when he sees Liam open his mouth to speak and says, “And save me the speech, Liam. It’s early and I’ve yet to have my coffee.”

“Alright,” Liam sighs, his hands raising in surrender. “I won’t say anything.” Killian folds his arms across his chest and waits because he knows his brother all too well. “All I’ll say is that I told you things would be okay with _both_ of them and you refused to listen to me...”

He tilts his head as Liam looks to the left while crossing his legs, a somewhat tight smile on his face.

“Is that all?”

“Just one other thing…”

“Ah,” Killian nods.

“She’s rather… good looking, don’t you think?”

With another sigh, Killian pushes himself away from the dresser and shakes his head. He knew it was coming, of course, his brother’s need to shove him into the world and find someone to love him… honestly, he’s surprised Liam’s waited _this_ long before mentioning it.

“Liam…”

“What? You don’t think so?” Killian rolls his eyes, throwing him a look that tells him that is _not_ the case and Liam continues. “All I’m saying is—"

“Not now, brother,” Killian huffs while walking toward the door. “I’ve told you it’s too early and it’s bad form to speak about her behind her back.”

Liam stands to follow him and snorts, “She’s getting to you, isn’t she?”

His steps falter as he rounds the corner, his eyes flickering to the room across the landing before he bounces down the stairs with his brother right behind him.

“She’s not.”

The grandfather clock that’s in their dining room starts to chime and though he knows it’s impossible, he swears he hears the pocket watch chime along with it. For a moment, he’s relieved that it works, because after what happened the night before, he had forgotten to check on it—he spent half the night listening to see if Emma was going to try and sneak out in the middle of the night—but he quickly tenses. Rolling his shoulders, he wonders if he can actually hear it, or if it’s just in his head as they walk into the kitchen while Liam lists all the things they need to do.

“Liam!” He groans, turning back to his brother with his head tilted back and his eyes squeezed shut. “Coffee!”

When he opens his eyes, he catches the end of Liam rolling his before motioning to the counter. “Looks like Emma’s already started the coffee—” The tension comes back to his shoulders. “—she’s probably in the laundry room.”

“I’m going to check on my boat.”

Ignoring the protest of his brother, he rushes out the back just as hears the laundry room door open and gives a small sigh of relief because it wasn’t until that moment the he realized that he wasn’t ready to speak with her yet. Not because he judges her—he’s had his fair share of panic attacks—but because he’s embarrassed about how he reacted. He was shocked to find her in his room but seeing her with the pocket watch… everything went black.

He pushes the door to the boat house open, cursing under his breath when it gets caught in the wind and he has to catch it before it crashes back into him. Living by the water has its perks, watching the sun rise and set over the waves is something he’ll never tire of, but the wind can be an annoyance.

Turning back to his boat, he walks over and allows his fingers to brush against the side of the wood while he examines her. Feeling the smooth surface, he allows himself a small smile in triumph before ducking his head to check underneath. A few days prior he was able to sand her down and now all he has to do is prime the wood and then he’ll be able to paint. If all goes well, he suspects he’ll be able to take her out on the water once the weather breaks—after he picks out a name, of course.

The sound of the door creaking open makes him look up and his mouth falls open when he sees Emma coming through with a mug in each hand.

“Hey, I—shit!”

The door gets caught in the wind again and Killian quickly jumps forward to help her, but she puts her foot out to stop it before he can get there.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” She shoves the door open and quickly moves forward before the door slams closed behind her and she shakes her head. “That’s a pain in the ass.”

“I’ve been meaning to fix it.”

With a shrug, she walks to him, hesitating only a moment before she holds one of the mugs she’s carrying out to him.

“I brought you some coffee.” He blinks, his brow furrowing at the gesture as she continues, “It’s fresh. I thought you could use some.”

For a brief moment, he feels his throat close up—he can’t remember the last time _anyone_ besides Liam brought him something for no other reason than they thought of him—before he quickly shakes his head and moves to take it from her.

“T-Thank you,” he mumbles, his voice low and full of emotion.

She smiles. “I wasn’t sure how much sugar you take, so I only put one in.”

He inwardly winces but takes the mug without question.

“It’s fine, lass.”

The sweet taste is foreign on his tongue and he’s forced to keep a neutral expression while Emma’s gaze moves along the boat.

“Are you rebuilding this?”

Licking his lips, his shoulder tugs up in response. “Trying to.” He watches as she walks past him, her eyes looking in interest and he feels a twinge of nervousness run over him. “You know much about boats?”

“Not really,” she winces. “But she’s pretty.” She stops, standing up fully as her eyes move back to him. “It is a _she_ , right? Like cars… all boats are girls?”

He smiles at the adorable way her nose scrunches up and nods.

“Aye, she’s a she, and she’ll be prettier once she’s finished… fresh coat of paint will do her just fine.” Emma’s face contorts, and he tilts his head. “What?”

“I mean, it’s an old boat, right?” He nods slowly, and she shrugs, “Why not keep the vintage look? This wood is so beautiful—I feel like a good stain would be enough to make it pop.” He eyes the plain wood, his mind picturing what it might look like after it’s stained and gives him a small nod. “Just my opinion.”

“No,” he interrupts, his left arm crossing over his chest while he takes another sip of the coffee. “I can see it.”

“Could be old fashioned, like the ones in the Disney movies.”

His eyes roll despite his smile. “As in Prince Eric?”

“As in Captain Hook… unless you’re the prince type.”

“I prefer dashing rapscallion,” he flirts, his brows wiggling.

Lifting his mug to take another drink, he catches the sight of the black vines on his hand and freezes. For a quick moment, he’d forgotten who he was and what he looked like, and it makes his chest hurt. He tenses as he prepares himself for her laugh at his mishap, but she simply shakes her head with a small smile.

“Easy there, Captain.” His shoulders sag in relief, though he’s flooded with confusion as to why she’s not laughing at him. “So, can I go aboard?”

He swallows the lump in his throat, his fingers tightening around the mug as he motions to the gangplank that leads up onto the boat.

“Aye, of course.”

Switching his mug to his left hand, he offers his right to her as she steps forward out of habit. The second her skin touches him, there’s a static shock that happens and makes them both flinch.

“Sorry,” she chuckles, before taking his hand again.

Her fingers are warm from the mug she’s been holding and the feel of her soft skin against his own makes him almost whimper. It’s been far too long since he’s touched a woman, and he hates the way his body is reacting to it. Just barely snatching his hand away, he waits until she’s aboard before following her while taking another gulp of the too sweet coffee to distract him for a moment. Emma looks around, her eyes wide with curiosity and he sucks in a deep breath. The scent of the sea along with a hint of lavender surrounds him and he almost curses.

_That’s going to stay with me now._

“What’s her name?”

Clearing his throat, he shakes his head. “I’m waiting until she’s finished to name her.”

She throws him a smirk over her shoulder and asks, “You can’t think of one, can you?”

“No, I can’t.” They share a chuckle and he sits down on one of the benches. “Liam’s suggested Jewel, but…”

When she turns back to him, her brows are furrowed, and her nose is scrunched up in that adorable way again. “She doesn’t seem like a jewel.”

“Aye? What does she seem like?”

He watches as she places her hand on the wheel, her fingers gliding over it before she turns back to him with a shrug.

“Something a little grittier than Jewel.”

The right side of his lips tug up as he asks, “What, like the Jolly Roger?”

“Only if you get a permed wig and a wax mustache to go with it.”

Killian breathes out a laugh and mutters, “We’ll see,” before swallowing down the rest of his hot drink, the sweet taste of sugar more prominent at the end, though he finishes it without question. Silence falls between them, the only sound coming from the water lapping at the sides of the boat, while he watches Emma as she continues to look around. He takes notice that she’s wearing one of his Henleys under her red leather jacket and he has a flash of his dream from the other night, when he took her shirt off while he was sucking on her collarbone.

His thoughts break at the brush of Emma’s knee against his as she sits in front of him and he feels the all too familiar feeling of frustration wash over him. He’s a bloody adult, an adult that has spent the better part of his life around women who he’s _actually_ bedded, and he’s been fine—most of the time it wouldn’t even cross his mind. Whereas with Emma, he’s simply dreamed about her and he can’t stop himself from thinking about it.

Sure, she’s beautiful, and every time her tongue pokes out to wet her bottom lip, he wonders what it might taste like, but what the bloody hell is—

“Killian?”

He blinks, her voice letting him know that he’s zoned out again and his eyes move over her face as he examines her. There’s a pink to her cheeks and her breath is visible in the rays of sunlight that leak through the walls of the boat house. Her lips are a little chapped and the skin around her nose is tight due to the cold—he gets the sudden urge to press a kiss to it.

“Did you hear a word I just said?”

Clenching his jaw, he feels irritation swell up inside of him. Never in his life has he been so flustered around a woman, they become flustered around _him_. He does _not_ get so distracted that he can’t concentrate, especially over a woman who offended him so greatly the night before.

“No, I didn’t,” he clips without thinking. “I was too busy thinking about how you went into my bedroom without permission and touched something that doesn’t belong to you.”

Her head snaps back as her mouth falls open, and he regrets his words instantly. When she stands, he curses under his breath and opens his mouth, but she cuts him off.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” she huffs as she turns to leave the boat. “I thought you would be capable of having an _actual_ conversation…”

He pushes himself up and takes a step closer. “Swan, I’m—”

She turns back to him so quick, the boat rocks and he has to regain his balance before he falls.

“Look, I get it. I went into your room and that was a pretty shitty thing to do. But I heard something and thought…” When she trails off, he raises his eyebrow and waits for her to finish, though she seems to decide against whatever she was going to say and shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have gone into your room, I know that.”

Though he sees that she’s admitting fault in her actions, the simple action of her being unable to be honest with him as to _why_ she was in his room in the first place makes him angry.

“Aye, you shouldn’t have.”

“I just said that!” She snaps back at him and he presses his lips together. “You have to be the most infuriating person I have ever met!”

The smirk that pulls at his lips is smug and one he knows irritates the hell out of her by the way her eyes blaze.

“Back at you, love.”

She balks. “You really are incapable of accepting an apology, aren’t you?”

His face contorts in confusion.

“Is _that_ what you’re doing?”

She gives him a hard glare as she punctuates, “I’m _sorry_.” When it takes him too long to respond, Emma seems to grow impatient and sighs, “You know, you’ve been so concerned with hiding away because of what your face looks like, that you don’t realize it’s what’s on the inside that makes you ugly.”

A lump forms in the back of his throat and he’s stunned into silence. It’s not the first time he’s felt shame after speaking to her—his mouth has a way of getting him into trouble—but it _is_ the first time he finds his feelings hurt… because there’s a truth in her words he’s been unable to admit. The boat rocks as she steps off, her boots stomping loudly on the dock before the sound of the door slamming against the wall signals that he’s left alone with nothing but his thoughts and a pang of regret.

* * *

_Killian stands at the end of his bed, his hands undoing the buttons on his jeans while he stares at the beauty that is Emma Nolan lying before him._

_“Are you just going to stare?”_

_With a soft smile, he places one knee on the mattress and wraps his fingers around her left ankle._

_“Can you blame me?”_

_Lifting her leg up, he places a soft kiss on the inside of her calf, humming at how soft her skin is, before dragging his lips up ever so slowly. When he reaches her knee, he pokes his tongue out to trace it and smiles at the sound of her moan._

_“Don’t tease me,” she pleads, her voice breathless while her fingers tangle in his hair._

_He lightly nibbles at her hip bone and shakes his head._

_“No teasing, my love. Just taking my time… you deserve to be worshiped like the goddess you are.”_

_There’s a ripple in her stomach while she sucks in a breath and he trails kisses all the way to her belly button. He’s drunk off the smell of her arousal, and the feel of her legs wrapping around him drives him almost completely mad. How lucky he was to have a beautiful woman such as her to want him, to bless him by sharing his bed…_

_Her thighs tighten against his sides and a growl bubbles in the back of his throat before he pushes himself up and fuses his lips with hers. She tastes of the sweetest sugar and he wants nothing more to feast on it for the rest of his life._

_“You’re beautiful,” he breathes against her lips. “Bloody gorgeous… Emma, I need you.” Her fingers tighten in his hair as she bites down on his bottom lip. “Please… may I have you?”_

_Emma runs her hands down his back, her nails lightly scratching at his scorching hot skin until she pushes them under his pants to grip his bottom. He groans at the feel of his cock pressing against her center and sucks her tongue into his mouth. His pants disappear and the moment he slides inside of her, the entire world comes to screeching halt._

_“Bloody hell,” he chokes out while thrusting deep. “You feel amazing.”_

_“Oh, Killian, more!”_

_He feels her ankles lock behind him and he pulls himself almost all the way out before sinking back inside of her silk, while grinding his pelvis against her clit. The way her body shudders lets him know she enjoys it and he repeats the motion again and again. He wants to ask her what she likes, he wants to praise her for the way she feels around him, but his words are stuck in the back of his throat. His own moans outdo Emma’s and he can’t help but dig his fingers into the sheets besides her head._

_“So tight… warm… best I’ve ever had…”_

_“Shit!” She hisses into his ear while his tongue circles her right nipple, making it pebble in his mouth. “Ow, fuck!”_

_He instantly pulls back with his brows furrowed and—_

Killian’s eyes snap open and his head jerks to the right to find Emma kneeling by the fire, waving her left hand in front of her. At first, he’s confused, unsure as to what’s happening until he sees the pained look on her face and he pushes himself out of his chair to rush over to her.

“What the blazes are you doing?”

“I was trying to—ah shit that stings—I was cold, so I was trying to add another log on the fire and it slipped now I have this big ass splinter in my hand.”

Looking down, he reaches for her hand and says, “Let me help.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she counters with a shake of her head, attempting to hide it behind her back, but he grabs it before she can.

“No, it’s not.”

His eyes run over the wound and winces when he sees the dark, slender wood under her skin.

“So, now you’re a gentleman?”

He looks up at her, his face completely blank before he stands, pulling her up with him.

“It could get infected.” She raises her eyebrow and he smirks, “And I’m always a gentleman.” Ignoring her eye roll, he picks up a burning candle and motions to the hall, “There are tweezers in the bathroom.”

When he pulls open the French door that leads to the hall, they both hiss at the cold that hits them, but keep quiet as they make their way to the downstairs bathroom. The power went out just after four the day before and it’s the second night they’ve had to sleep in the living room.

He took the lounge chair—he’s spent many a night passing out in that exact spot just watching the flames—while Liam offered to take the smaller couch, leaving the longer one for Emma, who, of course, argued against it.

_“Seriously, you’re like ten feet tall. I’ll take the smaller couch.”_

Liam attempting to make an argument against her reasoning was truly comical.

Placing the candle on top of the sink, he tells her to take a seat while he opens the medicine cabinet to pull out the tweezers.

“You shouldn’t touch it,” Killian murmurs, making Emma look up at him with wide eyes. “It could go deeper.”

In the dim candle light, he can see her face contort before she asks, “You sure we can’t leave it in there? Just let it pop out on its own?”

His lips tremble as he attempts to mask his smile. “It’s best to deal with it now, love.” She eyes him again and he holds his hand out. “I promise to be gentle.”

A brief moment passes until she finally holds her hand up to him and he’s hit with a flash from his dream which makes his cock twitch. Trying to be discrete, he kneels in front of her, pulling the end of his shirt out to cover his lap before he uses his thumb to press her splinter to the surface, mumbling his apology when she winces.

“It’s alright,” she breathes. “It’s more cold than anything.”

Without thinking, he leans down and breathes on the tweezers in an attempt to warm them and from the corner of his eye, he sees her mouth fall open. There’s an awkward silence that falls between them and though he can feel her gaze on him, he keeps his locked on her hand. The splinter isn’t deep and were it Liam or himself, he’d have ripped it out without hesitation, but he doesn’t want to risk a piece breaking off and getting stuck.

“Sorry, I woke you,” her voice is soft and low before adding what seems to be a nervous chuckle, “I hope I didn’t interrupt too good of a dream.”

He blinks, faltering with the tweezers for a microsecond and shakes his head.

“I don’t remember,” he lies. “I’m not much of a deep sleeper, anyway.”

“You mean like Liam?”

Snorting, he nods, “Aye, perhaps his snores are the reason for that.” His tongues pokes out of the corner of his mouth as he pulls the splinter free from her palm. “Ah, there we go. Large bugger.”

“Thank you.”

Killian answers with a small nod, one he’s not even sure she sees due to the darkness of the room, before he deposits the small piece of wood in the garbage bin. He sits back on his heels, an awkward silence falling between them and for a brief moment, he considers what it would be like to hold a full conversation with her. They haven’t spoken much since she stormed out of the boat house and he’s done nothing but think about what he could possibly say to her to make things right.

“Well, I’m wide awake,” she sighs, her hands slapping lightly on top of her thighs, “I’m going to make some hot chocolate… want some?”

He reaches up to scratch the back of his ear and says, “Uh, well, I’m not… what I mean is, I…” She raises her eyebrow and a large puff of air passes his lips. “I don’t really consume those type of things.”

“Warm things?”

Despite his smile, his eyes roll as he stands to put the tweezers away. “Chocolate… sugar… things that are bad for you.”

“How come?”

“They aren’t… good.” Wincing at his own tone, he looks over to see Emma tilt her head and huffs, “If one wishes to stay in shape, they don’t consume sweets.”

She stares at him for a long while, and he shifts his weight to the left before she slowly nods while standing to pick up the candle.

“Yeah, I’m going to put extra whip cream on yours.”

He moves to argue, holding his hand out toward her, but she’s through the door before he can say anything, and his hand drops as he presses his lips together. He could just ignore her, walk back into the living room without giving her so much as a second glance, but he knows an opening when he’s offered one and there’s something deep inside of him that does _not_ want to miss it.

Walking into the kitchen, his finds her at the sink filling the teapot and takes a deep breath. The scrape of the stool sounds much louder than it should and when he sits, he places his arms on the counter, grimacing slightly at how cold the marble is. Hopefully, the power will be back soon, however, he knows that even when it does come back, it’ll take about a day to heat the house which means another night with Emma Nolan sleeping only a few feet away from him.

_Bloody hell, I need rum._

“Damn, it’s cold out here.” Emma’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “How do you guys deal with this?”

He squirms, his hands moving to his lap to rub his thighs as he shrugs, “You get used to it.”

“I guess there’s always a minus to every plus.”

“Plus?”

She twists the knob on the stove making the burner click seconds before the flame ignites, and turns to him, her hip resting against the counter.

“Well, it’s cold without power, and there’s no reception for anything, but it’s a huge house with an amazing view.” She motions with her head to the back door. “I’m sure there are plenty of people over in Storybrooke that look over at this house and dream it was theirs.”

Clenching his jaw, his eyes move to the flickering flame on the candle while he clips, “They’d soon learn it’s more of a nightmare than a dream.” Her gaze weighs heavy on him and when he finally chances a glance in her direction, he can see the same look of regret he saw in the boat house. The one she gave moments before she proclaimed it was stupid to attempt to talk to him, though before she can do it this time, he clears his throat and swipes at the corners of his mouth, “Apologies. I’ve just… been stuck here for far too long.”

There’s a pregnant pause, and for a moment, he’s unsure if she’s going to storm off again before she eventually mumbles, “I guess the grass is always greener.”

He thinks about how before he was cursed, he would only dare to think there was a life better than the one he had while he lay awake at night—a path he wished to take before his father had chosen for him. Emma stays silent after that, her eyes moving down while she picks at the cuffs of his blue, long sleeved cotton thermal, and he can feel the awkwardness begin to seep back in. It happens almost every time they are alone together and he finds that he wants it to just wash away and wishes for nothing more than for them to be as calm and comfortable as her and Liam are.

Reaching up to scratch the back of his ear, he starts low, “I want to… uh… I want to apologize for my rudeness the other day and for, well, for how I reacted that night.” Their eyes connect and he takes a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you the way I did. It was bad form and I offer my sincerest apologies. I never meant to scare you—”

“You didn’t scare me,” she interrupts with a little bite in her tone and he sighs.

“Well, whatever I did that led to you…” He trails off and shakes his head. “It was not my intention. The watch it was, uh, it was—” He adjusts himself on the stool. “—it was something from the man that did… _this_ to me and I was shocked… though that’s hardly an excuse.”

He expects her to ask what happened, he expects her to ask why he still has it, but she does neither, and once again, Emma Nolan surprises him.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.” His tone is firm and her lips part in surprise. “It won’t happen again, I assure you.”

He watches as her right hand moves to her left arm and she bites her lip with a small nod. A quick moment passes where neither of them say anything again, but they don’t have to. There’s a shift between them, he can feel it, and though he’s not entirely sure what it means… there’s a whisper with it that gives him hope. Killian jumps at the high-pitched whistle of the teapot, and when he looks up, he sees Emma shaking her head, the sound seeming to surprise her, as well.

“It would appear it’s time for your sugary concoction that you wish for me to drink.”

Her eyes roll as she turns to the stove.

“I was just messing with you. You don’t have to drink any if you really don’t want to.”

With his brow furrowed, he looks her over, trying to suss out what she wants from him, but with the only light coming from the candle, her face is cloaked in shadows and her body language gives nothing away.

“I’ll have a cup.”

She turns the flame down and moves the pot to an empty spot on the stove, her eyes flickering over to him. “Are you sure?”

Again, she gives nothing away, and his mind wanders back to a time when he would attempt to sneak treats at events his father took him to, only to be chastised by Fiona before he could finish.

_Well, Fiona isn’t here, is she?_

“Aye,” he answers, his voice tighter than he intends. “I’ll have one.”

Her face remains blank as she nods, reaching up to open the cabinet above the stove while asking over her shoulder, “What color mug?”

His brow raises. “I’m sorry?” She looks to him, motioning to the cabinet and repeats her question. “Does it matter?”

“Well, I’m choosing yellow because I like yellow.” He watches as she pulls a yellow mug he didn’t even know they had out before she turns to him. “Which color do you like?”

Her question throws him, and he tries to remember the last time someone asked him which color he preferred instead of just choosing for him. It’s a small decision, one that doesn’t much matter, but being asked means more than he cares to admit.

“Red,” he answers, the small defiance of choosing his favorite color over his father and Fiona’s preferred choice of blue. “Red… please.”

Emma gives a nod before she reaches back into the cabinet and pulls out a red mug. The way she prepares the hot cocoa makes his lips twitch and a bubble of laughter tickles the back of his throat. She’s so precise in her pouring of both the water and the powder and when she takes the whip cream out of the fridge, his face contorts as she creates a swirl on top of each mug. When she’s finished, her use of cinnamon confuses him, though he forgets to ask when he’s momentarily distracted by the way she sucks the excess cream off her finger.

“Want to take these to the living room where it’s warmer?”

Nodding, he pushes himself up. “Aye, probably best. I’ll take them, you grab the candle, yeah?”

Her eyes narrow. “You’re not going to ‘ _accidentally_ ’ spill yours, are you?”

His chuckle is one he can’t seem to hide as he shakes his head.

“No, Swan, I’m not going to spill it.”

The rush of heat hits them as soon as they step into the living room, and Killian uses his foot to kick the French door shut, pausing for a moment when it’s louder than he expects to see if the noise wakes his brother. Liam’s soft snores continue and Killian all but snorts—his brother could sleep through anything.

Emma blows out the candle, placing it back on the mantle before she walks over to take the mug from him. As he sits back down on the lounge chair, he watches as she sits, turning so she can face him and leans back against the arm rest with her legs laid out while she carefully pulls the blanket over to cover her lap. Once she’s settled, she looks up with an expectant look and nods to him.

“Well, go on… drink it.”

He squirms a bit, his eyebrow rising as he asks, “You’re just going to watch me?” She nods while bringing her own mug up to her lips, taking a small sip before she holds it between both her hands. “That’s… strange.”

“I’m a strange girl,” she replies with a slight shrug.

Snorting, he tips his head, “Don’t I know it.” Her mouth falls open in mock anger and he raises both eyebrows before lifting the mug up to her. “Cheers, love.”

The fast melting whipped cream is cool, but that’s quickly replaced by the hotness of the cocoa, and the cinnamon on his tongue adds a small spice that makes the sweetness not so intense. Swallowing, he can feel the warmth flow down his throat and he gives a small nod while he licks the excess cream off his lips.

“It’s…” He looks up to see that her eyes are slightly wide and he softly laughs. “It’s delicious.”

Her giggle makes him smile and she takes another drink after she says rather smugly, “You have a hidden sweet tooth, I can tell.”

With another soft laugh, he shakes his head, briefly looking down at his lap as he makes himself a little more comfortable.

“Believe it or not, I used to… when I was child.” Her features show triumph and his eyes roll. “ _Many_ years ago, Swan.”

“Please,” she scoffs while snuggling further into the couch and bending her knees slightly. “You’re thirty, Killian, not three hundred.”

His eyebrow quirks up and he takes another sip before asking, “And just how is it that you know of my age?”

The pink that appears on her cheeks makes him curious and he purses his lips at her until she gives another small shrug.

“It’s my job,” she says with no further explanation.

He recalls Liam telling him of her profession—bails bond person—and the sudden picture of her man handling some bastard that’s skipped out on his bail makes his mouth dry and his cock stir again. Clearing his throat, he takes a large gulp, ignoring the burn and rests his feet on the ottoman in front of his chair.

“I wager you have many tales with a job such as yours.”

Her tongue swipes at her top lip and she tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear.

“Some, like this one time, the guy tried to hide in toy box in a kid’s room after I tracked him down.” Killian’s brows climb up his forehead in amusement and she chuckles. “Yeah, he was a big guy, too. So, that was funny. But, other than things like that, it can be a pretty easy job. Most people don’t know how to disappear.”

He snorts. “They should meet my father, he’s very good at making a person disappear.”

It’s not until he sees the look on her face that he realizes what he’s said and curses under his breath, a tickle of embarrassment coursing through him.

“I hope you mean in a way that he knows places to hide and not in the way that means your father is a mass murderer.”

The lightness in her tone makes him smile lightly while he bites the inside of his cheek.

“While my father may be many things, a murderer is not one of them… that I know of.” He adds the last part in jest and breathes in deep at her low giggle. Pressing his lips together, he rests the mug of cocoa in his lap and starts, “After what happened—” He waves toward his face. “—my father purchased this house under the guise that we were to stay here while he set up the new shipping dock in town. He said it was a place for me to hide away from the world… I soon learned he meant it to be a place to hide the world away from _me_.”

The instant he finishes, his brow furrows in confusion. He doesn’t know why he’s told her all that, and out of habit, he reaches for his hood, pulling it over his head while Emma presses her lips together, an unreadable expression on her features. There’s a bubble of vulnerability that knots his stomach, one he hasn’t felt since Liam appeared on the porch, and to distract himself, he takes another gulp of the now cooling liquid, wishing desperately he had thought to grab his bottle of rum before they left the kitchen.

“That’s… shitty.”

He’s not sure if it’s the way her voice sounds when she speaks—low and full of remorse—the lack of pity that shines in her eyes as she stares at him, or the way she doesn’t give him a fake speech about hope in an attempt to make him feel better, but the vulnerability he felt vanishes and it’s replaced by something… different—something _warm_.

“Aye, love,” he answers, a hint of truth he hasn’t felt in a long while dripping from his tone. “It is.”

For once, the silence that falls between them doesn’t seem tense or awkward, and he can’t help but think on what she’s said. It _is_ shitty what happened and for the first time, he doesn’t mean the curse, and for some reason, he finds it funny.

His laugh starts low at first, just a rumble in his chest until it rises and he’s unable to hold it back any longer.

Shaking his head, he laughs, “That’s the perfect bloody way to describe it… _shitty_.”

“ _Really_ shitty,” she nods, her lips twitching in amusement which only makes him laugh harder.

Killian’s head falls forward, his laughter continuing to the point where his eyes are watering, and it takes him a moment to realize that Emma is laughing along with him.

“There’s frogs in the footwear!”

Liam’s voice makes them both stop and Killian blinks, while Emma looks to him with a raised eyebrow before turning back to Liam.

“What was that, brother?”

Liam’s eyes open and he lifts his arm to motion to the corner of the living room.

“Frogs.”

Emma snorts out a laugh, her hand shooting up to cover her mouth while Killian’s eyes widen in amusement.

“You get those frogs, Liam.”

His brother nods. “Aye,” he mumbles, his eyes drooping close again. “Aye, frogs.” Liam turns his back to them, his snores once again filling the living room only seconds later.

Blinking in disbelief, Killian’s eyes move back to Emma and right away, they both begin to laugh again.

“Please tell me we’re going to make fun of him for that tomorrow after he wakes up.”

Feeling lighter than he has in a long while, his shoulders tug up in a small shrug, the laughter still evident in his voice as he says, “As you wish.”


	7. I've Just Seen A Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @initiala & @idristardis are the absolute best. I can’t express how awesome you ladies are. <3 Make sure check out the flipping amazing art @cocohook38 did for me. Please please make sure you go check out all the other stories included in @captainswanbigbang. They are all amazing and you won’t regret it, I assure you.

Emma’s in the kitchen one morning making coffee when she catches sight of the calendar. It’s nautical themed and has always been there, but this is the first time she’s really _looked_ at it. Knowing that Liam’s birthday is the eighteenth, which is Sunday, she counts back and when she sees what the current day is, her head tilts.

In the beginning, she tried to keep track of her days. It would keep her busy for hours because she’d do nothing but obsess over it, but then slowly she just… stopped checking. Things changed, she began to really trust Liam and Killian came out more…

A smile tugs at the corner of her lips as she pulls two mugs from the cabinet. Things between her and Killian have changed so much since she first showed up on his porch over a month ago and if she’s being honest, she’s glad for it, because back then he’d barely _look_ at her, let alone willingly spend time with her. Now, the three of them are almost always together during the days and her nights don’t feel complete until she’s sitting in the living room helping Killian with a crossword puzzle and talking about different things that have happened in their lives.

They haven’t talked about anything serious, mostly things they liked or didn’t like when they were growing up. Though, she does know that he let his first girlfriend paint his nails and he knows that her first kiss resulted in four stitches because she and the boy fell off the slide. Other than that, they steer clear of anything too personal, and she’s grateful for that.

Opening the drawer where she knows they keep extra pens and a notepad, she rips a piece of paper off and begins her task as the last bits of coffee drip into the pot. It’s just as she’s finishing that she hears the footsteps on the stairs and she quickly stuffs the paper into her back pocket before she pours two cups of coffee and moves to sit on one of the stools.

Killian appears moments later while she’s stirring the sugar in her mug and she greets him with a smile, “Morning.”

He raises his brow, the black ink on his face seeming to almost shine in the light as he moves closer and she works to keep her expression blank.

“You’re up early.”

She shrugs, sipping on her coffee while he walks up to the counter. He continues to eye her as he reaches for the mug she left him, and she takes another drink to cover her smile. He turns to lean back against the counter and for a moment, she’s distracted by the design on the inside of his right arm after he pushes up the sleeve of his flannel. She knew that the ink ran down his arms—she’s seen the vines that wrap around the scars on his hands—but she assumed that those were extent of them, rather than this more intricate pattern. Before she can try and figure out what it is, he speaks.

“There’s no sugar in this.” Snapping her gaze up to him, she catches his look of suspicion before he begins again. “What are you up to, Swan?”

She smiles at his use of the nickname he’s given her. It’s grown on her, much like he has, and she finds it… _nice_.

“Nothing.” Wincing at the high tone of her voice, she clears her throat. “What makes you think I’m up to something?”

He lifts his right shoulder and takes another sip of his coffee before saying, “You’re a bit of an open book, easy for me to read.”

“Oh?”

“Quite.”

Her lips start to pull up into a smile, so she lifts her mug to cover her mouth again while he moves to stand before her and places his hands on the counter. They stare at each other, neither saying a word, but when he raises his brow, she mumbles, “I want to bake a cake for your brother’s birthday and I want you to eat it with us.”

His head drops with a chuckle and she watches as he rubs his hand over his smooth head. She decided last month after they had hot chocolate together that it’s unnatural for Killian to not eat sweets. If it was that he just didn’t like them, she’d get it—she’d think he was insane, but she’d still get it. But him not enjoying them simply because he’s not _supposed_ to, no, that doesn’t sit right with her. Which is why she’s made it a point to have him eat something sweet at least once a week.

She tried for three times a week, but he said no.

“Fine,” he sighs, making her smile until he points as he adds, “But only _one_ piece.”

Holding out her hand, she agrees, “Deal.”

He accepts her handshake and she feels giddy with triumph.

“So, do you guys have anything planned?” she asks while he reaches for his coffee again. “Like, is there something special you usually do?”

“Well, we were planning on heading into town, perhaps catch a film… stop at a few pubs—” He chuckles when she leans forward to smack him on the arm and he shakes his head, “No plans, Swan. I have a gift that I’ll most likely give him in the morning and I usually wait to give him Graham’s gift toward the end of the day.”

With her brows furrowed she asks, “How did Graham get a gift here?”

“He tends to leave a gift at Christmas time,” Killian explains after taking another drink of his coffee. “Asks me to hold onto it just in case… Liam likes to go up on the roof deck to open it.”

“You guys have a roof deck?” He nods, and her mouth falls open. “Why haven’t I seen it?”

“Because it’s winter?” His voice is dripping with sarcasm and when she stares at him blankly, he rolls his eyes. “I can show it to you if you’d like.”

Her face lights up. “Can we go now?”

With a small smile and a chuckle, he answers, “As you wish.”

Emma pushes herself up, telling him she’ll meet him upstairs and scurries out of the kitchen. Wednesdays were always a bit of a slow day for her since Liam spent most of his time in the garage painting while Killian usually did his laundry and worked out. Sometimes she joins him, but she’s found that Killian sweating and lifting weights is _very_ distracting—especially when he’s grunting—so, she waits until she knows he’s almost done for the sake of her own sanity.

But now she has a new place to explore—for lack of a better word—and it has her a little excited.

Slipping her boots on, she tucks her hair behind her ears and walks out into the hall to find Killian already waiting for her. He’s put on his black beanie along with a gray knit sweater and when she gets closer, she sees that he has her jacket. Knowing that he must have stopped in the living room to grab it, she smiles and shakes her head at how thoughtful he is.

“Thank you.” He nods while shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans as she puts it on. “Okay, how do you get up onto this roof deck? Is there a special book you have to pull in the study that opens up a secret passageway or something?”

“No book, but there is a special way to open this door.” She raises her brows and he nods again, “Aye, it’s so secret, that only Liam and myself know how to open it. But I’m willing to show you, only if you promise to never tell anyone.”

There’s a sparkle in his eye that she’s never seen before and it makes her want to play along, so she agrees. She follows him to the end of the hall and when he stops suddenly, she almost runs into him. He turns back to her so quickly, she has to step back so he doesn’t bump into her and asks, “Are you certain you can keep this secret?”

“Seriously?” His eyebrow ticks up and when she gives him a look in mock annoyance, he chuckles, “Alright, alright.”

He keeps his eyes on her as he reaches to the right of them and it’s only then she notices the door. He waits a moment, his eyes moving back and forth seeming to check to make sure no one is around before he looks back to her with a smirk. Squirming in anticipation, she watches as he twists the knob and pulls the door open.

Blinking, she looks through the doorway to see a set of stairs before her gaze moves back to him and he shrugs, “I told you there was a secret way.”

A fully belly laugh passes his lips as she lightly punches him in the arm.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“That I am.”

He motions for her to go first and she takes a step forward before stopping. For some reason, she’s hit with a memory of the time when Neal said he had a present for her in their closet and when she went to get it, he shut the light off and locked her in as a joke.

Narrowing her eyes, she accuses, “You’re just messing with me, there’s no roof deck.”

Killian chuckles and lifts his hand to the stairs. “I assure you there is. If you just go up—”

“So, you can lock me in?” She asks as she holds her hands up. “I don’t think so.”

“Why the bloody hell would I do that?”

Shrugging, she offers, “For a laugh?”

He shifts his weight to his left foot as he swipes at the corners of his lips. For a moment, she thinks he’s going to storm off, but he doesn’t. He simply leans in and all but growls, “Try something new, darling, it’s called _trust_.”

She stares at him for a long while, her eyes searching his face for a lie and when she doesn’t find one, there’s a twinge of guilt that tickles the back of her throat.

“Sorry,” she mumbles in embarrassment while her gaze moves to the floor for a quick second. “If you say there’s a roof deck then I believe you.”

His expression is unreadable as his jaw ticks before he eventually gives a small nod. There’s an awkward silence that falls between them and her lips press together before she walks through the door.

As they reach the middle of the stairs, it gets pretty dark due to the lack of light and she says over her shoulder, “You know, when I was younger, whenever I got scared, I’d hum to keep myself occupied.”

“Fortunately, the scary guy is right behind you.”

Stopping as they reach the top, she turns back to him with her eyes wide in amusement.

“Was that a joke? Are you making jokes now?”

“Maybe.” When her smile grows, he rolls his eyes and motions for her to open the door.

Walking out onto the deck, she gives a small gasp as she looks around. There’s an outdoor table set in the corner that’s covered to protect it from the snow, and a two-seater bench that’s pushed back against the wall of the house with a steel fire pit in front of it. It appears smaller than the one out back, though she thinks that might be because only the one side is clear of snow.  

“It’s beautiful up here.”

He hums in response as he steps up to the ledge and rests his elbows on it. “You should see it when they set off fireworks.”

“They set off fireworks?!” she asks, her voice dripping with excitement as she rushes up next to him.

Killian’s eyes widen slightly in amusement. “Like fireworks, do you?”

Feeling her cheeks flush, she mimics his position, and shrugs, “I mean… they are okay.”

He chuckles. “Right.”

Silence falls between them and she looks across the water. With the new height, she has a better view of the town, and when she sees what appear to be people walking into a barn, she sucks in a breath. Being snowed in with Liam and Killian for over a month, it’s been easy to forget that there are other people in the world and seeing those people was like a slap of reality.

One she doesn’t really need at the moment.

“So,” she starts, in order to distract herself. “I’m guessing you guys come up here a lot during the summer?”

“I do some nights,” he answers softly, “but mostly Liam and Graham like to come up and have dinner.”

“That’s sweet.” She sees him roll his eyes and nudges him with her shoulder. “You don’t think so?”

When he shrugs, she gives him a questioning look and he sighs.

“After what happened, I never thought I’d look at couples the same again, thought they would forever annoy me.” Her brow furrows and he briefly looks down to his hands. “But you’re right, I do find them sweet.” He pushes to stand up straight and places his hands on the ledge with a huff. “Sometimes seeing how happy they are together…” He shrugs again and reaches up to scratch the back of his ear. “It’s… nice.”

There’s a softness in his voice that surprises her and the small smile that pulls at his lips makes her stomach flutter. Killian Jones is so _different_ than the person she thought he was. He’s sweet, almost kind, and he cares far more than he shows. She likes to think that it gives her a glimpse of the little boy that Liam told her about, but it also makes her wonder what happened to make him feel that he needs to hide it away.

“I know what you mean.” She notices his side look and continues, “My brother and his wife. I can only go by what you’ve told me about Liam and Graham, and the way Graham spoke of him when we hung out… but it seems like they are basically the same and yeah, it’s… nice.”

“I wasn’t aware that you and Graham are friends.”

“Friends is probably too strong of a word,” she admits as she turns to rest her back against the ledge and folds her arms across her chest. “We hung out a couple times when I came to visit David, that’s it.”

Killian turns to her, resting his elbow on the ledge and asks, “Did you visit often?”

“No,” she winces. “I only came once over the summer right after they moved in.”

“How come?”

The wind picks up and she shivers. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she rubs her hands up and down her arms before motioning to the door, “You know, it’s getting a little cold. We should probably head inside.”

Ignoring his look of confusion, she steps forward and moves for the door. After he’s closed the door, she shakes her upper body to loosen her tightened muscles and gives him a small, forced smile before she begins to head down the stairs. Once they reach the bottom, she feels a brush against her hand and turns back to find Killian scratching the back of his ear.

“I, uh, I didn’t mean to…” he trails off with a sigh and lets his hand drop. “If I made you uncomfortable with the question…”

“No, Killian, it’s not—” She stops and shakes her head before mumbling, “I only came to visit David once because I was mad at him for moving.” She’s not sure if it’s because of the minimal light in the stairway or because of the way he tilts his head in wonder, but she decides that it wouldn’t be so bad to tell him the truth. “I mean, it was always us, you know? Even when he and Mary Margaret got together, we were still… _us_. Then he announced he was moving and I didn’t really take it well.”

“You felt that he abandoned you.”

“A little… yeah.” Taking a deep breath, she sits on the last step and wraps her arms around her knees before continuing, “It also didn’t help that we weren’t really speaking at the time.”

“May I ask why that is?”

Wincing, she explains, “Let me put it like this: the last time I saw David, it ended with him punching Neal in the face.” When Killian raises his brow in question she shrugs, her voice dripping with ambivalence, “He’s— _was_ my boyfriend. They never really got along.”

There’s a smirk that pulls at his lips.

“Overprotective brother, is he?”

“You know, I thought that’s what it was, too. He loved doing it when we were younger because he knew it pissed me off,” she mutters, making Killian chuckle. “But with Neal it was…” she blows out a breath and shakes her head, “I don’t know, but it wasn’t that.”

There’s a moment of silence before Killian pushes himself away from the wall to sit next to her and she ignores the way their thighs touch while he pulls the beanie off his head and offers, “Perhaps it was simply that he wasn’t too fond of seeing his younger sister with someone—wouldn’t matter who it was.”

“Maybe,” she agrees before looking down at her hands. “Or maybe he saw something that I didn’t.”

Feeling his gaze on her, she reaches for her necklace to rub the charm between her fingers and begins, softly, “After they moved, I came to Storybrooke to try and mend our relationship, but it ended with Neal getting punched when he picked me up, so it didn’t really work. After that, Neal suggested we move to Tallahassee since I had nothing holding me to New York anymore. I placated him for a little while only because I knew we didn’t have any money…” She trails off with a humorless laugh and runs her hand through her hair. “Though he found a way around that.”

“What did he do, rob a bank?” She knows he’s joking, but it still makes her grimace and when his face drops she hesitates. Maybe she shouldn’t tell him what happened, but it’s like now that she’s started, she can’t stop… and honestly, she’s not sure if she wants to. “Emma…”

“I came back to our apartment after catching a skip and he was bouncing around in excitement. All he kept saying was that we could finally move, that he was able to convince his old boss to give him the money that he was owed. I didn’t really think much about it because I was tired, so when he got in the shower I laid down and put on the TV.”

Her heart begins to pound in her chest and when she doesn’t say anything, she feels him brush up against her arm. Blinking over to him, she finds his eyes soft before he gives a small, encouraging nod.

“It’s alright, love.”

“There was a news alert,” she whispers, the same feeling of dread she felt that night washing over her. “His old job had been robbed and a security guard had been shot.” Killian sucks in a breath and she finishes, “I knew without a doubt it was him.”

“What did you do?”

“I did what I always do, I ran.” She answers with small shrug. “Decided to go to the only person in my life that I knew I could count on… because I knew I didn’t have anyone else I could trust.”

There’s a long moment of silence and though she’s still not sure if she should have told Killian about what happened with Neal, it’s like a weight has been lifted and she feels almost… lighter—freer, even.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he starts softly, his eyes downcast. “I’m glad for that.”

Brows furrowing, she asks, “You’re glad that I didn’t have anyone else I could trust?”

Emma watches as his jaw ticks before his gaze drags back up to her face.

“If there was, you wouldn’t be here.”

There’s a truth in his whispered words that makes her heart flutter and her stomach flip. To hear him say that, after she spent the first couple of weeks thinking he wanted nothing more than for her to leave, means more than she cares to admit and more than she can ever wish to express.

Instead, she bumps her shoulder against his and says, “I’m glad, too.”

A breathless chuckle passes his lips as he looks down with a small smile, and what she thinks may be a blush on his cheeks, but she’s not sure due to the poor lighting. Letting out a deep sigh, she rubs her hands on her thighs when something shiny on his right wrist catches her eye and she tilts her head.

“What’s that?” When he looks to her in question, she reaches for his hand and places it in her lap. Pushing up his sleeve, she sees the silver bracelet with tiny skulls and her eyes light up. “This is cool.”

She brushes her fingers over it and he clears his throat.

“Liam gave it to me last Christmas.”

“Very piratey,” she notes with a smirk. “Would go great with a boat named the Jolly Roger.”

“Aye,” he chuckles. “I assume it would.”

She’s about to ask him how things are going with his boat when there’s a sudden rush of light and Killian snatches his arm back while her eyes try to adjust to the brightness. Looking up, Emma sees Liam standing in the doorway with his hand on the knob and a look of confusion on his face.

“What the bloody hell are you two doing?”

Opening her mouth, her words fail, so she looks to Killian. What were they going to say? They were sitting in the dark while she told him about how her ex-boyfriend committed robbery and assault with a deadly weapon?

“Well,” Killian stands, offering his hand to help her do the same before they walk out into the hall. “It _is_ someone’s birthday on Sunday—” Liam cheeks flush. “—so, Emma and I were discussing what we’re going to do to celebrate.”

Her stomach does another flip at his little white lie and when Liam looks to her with his eyebrow raised, she nods.

“I’m going to cook. Killian’s agreed to help.”

Liam snorts. “My little brother who has never made a meal for himself has agreed to help cook? I was unaware this was to be my last birthday.”

“Oi!”

Laughing along with Liam, Emma nods again, “Don’t worry, I won’t let him poison you.” She catches Killian’s eye roll and suddenly gets an idea. “Oh! We should dress up nice.”

“No,” Liam objects while shaking his head. “Truly, there’s no need.”

“Come on, we’ll have dinner… wear nice clothes… it’ll be fun.”

“I don’t want a fuss.”

“You make a bloody fuss over my birthday every year though I’ve asked repeatedly for you not to,” Killian interjects. “Allow me to return the favor, will you?”

“You always make my birthday special, Killian.”

Remembering how he told her that he didn’t really do anything special, her brows raise as she turns to the younger Jones and she sees his right shoulder lift.

“Then why should this year be any different?”

The brothers share a look and Emma waits until Liam finally nods.

“Alright,” he relents, and when she gives small cry in triumph he holds his hands up. “I’ll allow for you two to cook me dinner but dressing up is unnecessary.”

“What?” She gasps. “No!”

“Lass, while I’m certain you’d look no less than beautiful in one of my little brother’s dress shirts—”

“Younger,” Killian grumbles.

“—I wouldn’t wish for you to feel left out...”

Her smile widens.

“Actually, I have a dress.” Both brothers look at her in question and she continues, “I guess the last time I went to catch a skip, I never unpacked my bag and there was a dress at the bottom.”

Killian turns to her with his eyebrow raised and asks, “You wear dresses to catch someone who skipped bail?”

Waving him off, she mumbles, “Sometimes.” Turning back to Liam, she adds, “And luck would have it that I washed it last week when I did laundry.”

“Sounds like fate to me, brother,” Killian states, making Liam roll his eyes.

“Fine. I’ll pick out wine from the cellar.” Liam turns to walk toward the study and says over his shoulder, “And you’re having a piece of cake, Killian!”

Giggling, she ignores Killian’s head shake and calls out, “I already told him that!” Turning back to Killian she asks, “You guys have a wine cellar?”

“Aye.”

“How much more of this house have I not seen?”

His eyes roll again and says, “I think that covers it, Swan.”

“Where is it?”

“You know the door in the basement next to the washer and dryer?” She nods. “It’s in there.”

Looking up at the ceiling, she breathes out, “Ohhh, _that’s_ what’s behind that door.”

He tilts his head and narrows his eyes.

“What did you think was behind that door?”

Shrugging, she takes her jacket off and teases, “I thought it was where you hid all the bodies of the hitchhikers that you killed.”

“Funny,” he answers dryly, making her giggle again. She moves to head toward her room when he catches her elbow and she bites her lip to hide her smile when he scratches at the back of his ear. “Swan, what you told me in there…” Her smile falters because standing there with the two of them, joking and laughing, she’d forgotten all about her confession and now that she’s reminded of it, a lump begins to form in the back of her throat.

“You don’t… I’m not…” He fumbles over his words and he looks down at his feet before he takes a deep breath and looks back up to her. “You needn’t worry about having only your brother to trust anymore.”

What surprises her the most is how what he says doesn’t automatically make her want to snort, because she knows what he’s telling her is true. Sure, there isn’t really much for her to go on, but she thinks she’s known she could trust him since he helped her with her panic attack in the snow.

“I know,” she whispers, and her heart flutters again when his crystal blue eyes seem to brighten. Reaching into her back pocket, she pulls out the piece of paper she drew on earlier and presses it to his chest.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Killian.”

* * *

Emma’s running late—as usual—and when she hears the grandfather clock chime from downstairs she curses under her breath. She and Killian had lost track of time while they were cooking and because they both insisted that Liam stay in his room until it was time to eat, it wasn’t until the timer went off for the cake that she glanced at the clock. Luckily, the dining room table had been set before they started to cook—Killian was all too willing when she teased him with the cake icing—so she only had to worry about putting the food out. Which Killian offered to do—

_“Love, it’ll take me all of five minutes to get ready, you go ahead.”_

—giving her enough time to have a quick shower before getting dressed.

Brushing her hands through her wavy hair—courtesy of Liam and his hair mousse—she checks herself over one final time. The black knit dress is one she wouldn’t typically wear in the dead of winter due to its tank straps, though, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a little happy when she saw she had it. The full circle skirt had a flare style to it while the bodice fit perfectly and the square neckline gave the right amount of cleavage that always distracted her skips.

Not that she wants to distract _anyone_ at dinner…

Shoving the little makeup she has back into her travel bag, she stops when she catches sight of her cell phone and pauses. The screen lights up as soon as she touches it and she’s surprised to find it half way charged. For weeks, the first thing she’d do in the morning was go down to the docks to try and see if she could get at least one bar of service, but it’s been a while since she’s done that—she can’t even remember the last time she touched it. She notices that it still reads _no service_ , however, instead of feeling disappointment, she simply tosses it back onto the dresser and finishes her previous task.

Rushing out of the room, the soft melody that’s playing throughout downstairs can be heard as she rounds the corner. She stops when she reaches the top of the stairs and looks down. Her lips twitch, a smile threatening to surface as her nose wrinkles in confusion while she slowly descends to where Liam and Killian are waiting for her.

On opposites sides of the staircase, Liam and Killian stand with their arms behind their backs looking _amazing_. Liam’s wearing black slacks with a matching sports coat and a button up. The curls on top of his head are more tamed and it looks like he’s shaved since she first saw him that morning.

Killian is… _wow_.

He’s wearing a navy blue, paisley shirt, that’s unbuttoned to reveal his tease of chest hair— _really_ —under a leather waistcoat and she’s pretty sure the black jeans he’s wearing are molded to his skin because of how tight they are.

_Control yourself, Nolan._

Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, she looks up in time to catch Liam mumbling something to Killian with a smirk, which causes the youngest Jones to shake his head and swipe at his chin before his eyes move back to her. As she gets closer, the heat of his gaze gives her goosebumps and by the time she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she’s willing the flush in her cheeks to go away.

“Evening, gentleman.”

“Emma,” Liam bows his head with a smile. “May I say, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She brushes her hands down the front of her dress and lifts her right foot in the air while wiggling her toes. “I had the dress but no shoes.”

“It’s quite alright, lass.”

Smiling, she looks to Killian, but what she sees makes her brow furrow. There’s an expression on his face she can’t quite read and it’s not until Liam clears his throat that he seems to snap out of it.

“You look stunning, Swan.”

Blushing, she mumbles her thanks before moving down off the last step only to have Liam offer his arm. With the right side of her lips tugging up into a smirk, she steps down and asks, “Aren’t you the guest of honor?”

“Aye, and what better honor than to have a beautiful woman such as yourself on my arm?” Liam purrs with a wink and she’s sure her cheeks are going to be stained pink.

Killian clears his throat as she accepts Liam’s arm, and when she turns, she finds his eyebrow raised as he offers his, as well.

“Wow,” she draws out while locking her arm with his. “I haven’t been escorted by two men since that night when I was twenty-one.” She can _feel_ their heads snap toward her and she instantly loses composure—snorting out a laugh and shaking her head, “I’m just kidding.”

Killian’s laugh is almost as loud as hers and he drops his forehead to her shoulder while Liam rolls his eyes and presses his lips together. Clearing her throat, she nudges Killian with her elbow as they head toward the dining room and goes to apologize for her strange sense of humor when Liam cuts her off.

“I was twenty-three when it happened for me.”

At his confession, Emma and Killian stop walking and her mouth falls open. Blinking, she looks to Killian and sees that his face mirrors hers before her gaze moves back to Liam who simply shrugs, “I’m kidding, as well.”

She studies his face as he lets go of her arm to walk into the dining room first, but not before he throws a saucy smirk to them over his shoulder.

“Brother!”

Despite the shock that’s dripping from his voice, Killian’s lips are spread into a wide grin and his eyes are shining bright. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was… impressed.

“Come,” Liam beckons. “I would hate for this delicious smelling food to go waste.”

Killian motions for her to go first and she ignores the way her heart flutters when she feels his hand just barely rest on her lower back to guide her to her seat where he—of course—pulls the chair out for her.

_Damn him._

* * *

Both men praise her cooking and Emma gives a shy smile before shoving a fork full of food into her mouth. It’s only spaghetti, meatballs—that she was able to roll by hand with the last of the ground meat—and garlic bread that Killian made himself.

They burnt the first batch because they were too busy trying to wipe red sauce on each other’s faces, but Liam doesn’t need to know that.

When they finish their dinner, Killian brings out the cake and she can’t help but stare at him expectantly while Liam cuts him a slice. Pressing her lips together to suppress her laugh at the look he gives her from across the table, she opens a second bottle of wine and holds it over his glass as he spears the slice of cake with his fork. It’s just as she takes a sip from her glass that Killian stuffs an overly large bite into his mouth and she nearly spits out her wine.

The sight of his cheeks puffed out along with the chocolate smeared across his bottom lip is too funny and when he laughs in return, wine dribbles down her chin as tiny pieces of cake fly past his lips.

“Killian, honestly!” Liam grumbles while Emma continues to laugh. She watches as he throws a napkin at his brother before he points to her, his voice scolding despite the smile that’s pulling at his lips, “And you’re encouraging him.”

Killian wipes his mouth while she does the same to her chin, both of them mumbling an apology, and when she looks at him through her eyelashes, she bites her bottom lip at his wink. To distract herself, she asks them what England is like, and she quickly finds out it’s one of the best decisions she’s ever made.

She can’t remember the last time she laughed so much, the muscles in her stomach are actually starting to hurt a little, and she’s lucky her mascara is waterproof or else it would have smeared long ago.

“I walk into the bathroom,” Liam laughs while motioning with his hand. “And there’s Killian, no older than eight—”

“I was _six_ , Liam!” Killian cuts in.

Shrugging, he continues, “holding the razor in his right hand while his right cheek is pouring blood! He had to get five stitches!”

Emma’s eyes go wide, her gaze snapping over to Killian and she swears there’s a tint of pink that rises on his cheeks.

“Let me guess, you used too much shaving cream.” Killian winces into his wine glass and Liam snorts out a laugh. “What?”

“Bloody fool didn’t use any!” Liam howls while Killian drops his head in embarrassment.

Her hand shoots up to cover her mouth to keep herself from spitting out her wine while Liam slaps at the table with tears coming down as he laughs.

“In my defense,” Killian chuckles as he pushes his sleeve up and rests his elbow on the table, “whenever I saw father do it, it was always at the end when he had already removed the shaving cream.”

Liam accuses him of lying and the two brothers begin to banter as she whips her head back and forth between them. She’s seen siblings go back and forth before in all types of ways—there were sisters when she was younger that used to fist fight one minute, then cry apologies to each other the next—but Liam and Killian… she can tell it’s something special.

It's clear Liam is proud of Killian. He beams with pride whenever he’s telling stories from when they were younger, and like any normal older sibling, he _loves_ bringing up the embarrassing ones. And Killian, though he tries to hide it, looks up to Liam. He hangs on Liam’s every word and every time his older brother boasts about something he’s done, Killian’s face brightens with joy.

Their dynamic together is amazing and she’s so grateful that she’s _finally_ able to see it.

“Oh, really,” Killian starts, his voice laced with amusement. “Shall we talk about some of your _finer_ moments, dear brother?”

Liam shakes his head while he drinks his wine before placing the glass down and licks his lips. “I’ve not a clue to what you are speaking of.”

Killian’s brows raise high while his mouth drops. He’s silent for a moment until he nods and adjusts himself as he turns to Emma. “Have you heard the tale of how Graham asked Liam out?”

Liam coughs into his glass and Emma’s eyes widen.

“Uh,” Emma pulls her chair closer to the table and tilts her head. “We already had a bit to drink by then so, I’m not really sure.” She winces as her nails tap against the wine glass. “He mentioned a coffee shop?”

“Quite right,” Liam answers quickly. “We were in a coffee shop and he asked me out. That’s the story.”

Killian holds up his hand, wagging his finger at his brother as he interrupts, “Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, _no_! That is _not_ the story by any means.” Liam huffs and Killian rests his elbows on the table, leaning in toward her. “Tell me, Swan, do you know many love stories that begin with one person calling the other a clumsy buffoon?”

For some reason, she’s hit with the memory of _her_ calling _Killian_ a colossal dick and nearly spits out her drink again while Liam rolls his eyes.

“Not only…” Killian begins again in the middle of his laughter. “Not only does his call him a clumsy buffoon but berates him on his duties as Sheriff because _‘a bloody good Sheriff would see where the bloody hell he was going!’_ ”

Her battle to contain her laughter is lost once Liam’s head drops into his hands.

“You didn’t?”

“He did!” Killian answers for him.

With a tint of pink still tattooing his cheeks, Liam counters, “In my defense, it was a rough morning and he _had_ spilled my coffee all down my trousers.”

“What did Graham do then?” Emma asks.

“He offered to buy him another later that night,” Killian answers while Liam looks down to his lap. “It wasn’t until Graham left that my dear brother realized what he agreed to.”

“You agreed to a date not knowing that it was a date?”

“Aye,” Liam mumbles into his glass, “Still one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.”

“I agree,” Killian adds with a nod. “Graham is a fine man, brother, as are you.”

Her face softens as Liam smiles and reaches out to pat Killian’s hand. “Stop it, you’re making me blush.”

A chuckle passes her lips while she picks up her fork before Killian clears his throat and produces a small box with an envelope that she hadn’t noticed before. “Perhaps next year…” He nods while sliding them over. “Graham will be able to be here with us.”

With a smile, Liam nods as he pulls the items closer, “Perhaps. Though, Graham is bad enough on his own when it comes to celebrating my birthday. I dare say the thought of the two of you coming up with activities frightens me a little.”

Taking a sip of her wine, Emma asks, “Does he go all out?”

“Last year, he rented out an entire hall so that we could have our own ball.” Her brows raise and Liam motions to her with his glass. “Your brother and his wife helped him decorate. It was beautiful.”

She smiles at that and places her chin on her palm. “An entire hall?”

“Aye, complete with ballroom dancing,” Liam chuckles.

From the corner of her eye, she catches Killian’s lips turn up while he swallows the bite of his cake and she asks, “That must have been a surprise.”

“It was,” he whispers, wistfully, his eyes flickering to the envelope and present. “May he never stop surprising me.”

Silence falls between them and when she sees Killian look to her in question, she nods, making him lean forward. “Why don’t you retire for the evening, brother? Swan and I will clean up.” Liam’s attempts to argue go unheard as Killian picks up the envelope along with the box and slaps it against his brother’s chest. “Go give your thoughts to your boyfriend, Liam, you’ve spent enough time giving them to us.”

There’s still a look of hesitance on his face and it’s not until Emma stands herself to gather the plates that Liam finally relents. He thanks them both again—pressing a kiss to her cheek before patting Killian on the shoulder—and rushes out of the room with the present clutched in his hands.

* * *

Emma’s not exactly sure how it happens, but after she and Killian clean up the dining room, they end up in the living room, sitting on the floor in front of the fire sharing a slice of cake. She had been so excited when she saw him walk in with it, that in her slightly drunken state, she bounced on her knees and gave a little clap.

“Okay,” she starts, her tongue poking out to swipe at her bottom lip while she rests her elbow on the couch behind them. “Which horror movie scared you when you were a kid?”

He tilts his head back, a thoughtful look on his face before his lips pull into a smile around the fork he’s holding in his mouth and he nods.

“Ah, well,” he starts, pulling the fork out and licking the corner of his mouth—not that she notices. “You remember the, uh, the movie _It_?”

She can’t hide the way her eyes widen. “You’re afraid of clowns?”

“They’re _weird_!” He nearly cries, his hands gesturing wildly. “Who the bloody hell thought it was a good idea to dress someone up in clothes that are too big and paint colorful makeup all over their face?”

“Oh my god!” She laughs. “Killian, it’s to entertain kids!”

“It’s unnatural is what it is,” he argues. “And that clown _eats_ children, how the hell is that entertaining?!”

With tears of laughter stinging her eyes, she shakes her head, “He wasn’t really a clown…”

“He bloody looked real enough,” he grumbles while stabbing another piece of cake. She continues to laugh, her head falling back and he chuckles, “I’m glad I’m amusing you, Swan.”

Placing her hand on his shoulder, she leans forward and asks in excitement, “Oh, please tell me there’s a story there with Liam scaring you or something.” He averts his eyes, choosing instead to push the crumbs of the cake around on the plate and she snorts, “Tell me!”

“You know,” he laughs as he lifts his head. “He bloody tortured me for _weeks_ after we saw that film, even went as far as to hide under my bed one night.”

“Oh, boy,” she gasps, picking up her fork and still laughing lightly, “I think this is my most _favorite_ story.”

He smirks and tilts his head, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “Sometimes I wonder why I’m so nice to him.”

Her laugh makes her nearly choke on the cake she swallows and she gives a small nod.

“Yes, you’re _oh_ so nice.”

“Believe it or not, I’m not always a moody arse.”

“Oh?”

“Who do you think taught Graham to dance?” Both of her brows raise to her hairline and he gives a small, breathless laugh. “Does that surprise you?”

“A little.”

The smile that pulls at his lips is a sad one before he looks to her.

“I love my brother, Emma. He’s done more for me than anyone in my entire life.” His eyes show a hint of vulnerability and he shrugs, “I’d do anything to make him happy.”

Silence falls between them and she watches as he takes a sip of his wine and turns back to the flames.

“That’s sweet,” she mumbles, making him press his lips together in a tight smile. “But… I’m afraid it’s not enough to convince me.” When he raises his brow in question she motions to the center of the living room. “I think I’m going to need to see these dancing skills you claim to have.”

“You… want to see me dance?” She nods, and he turns to face her with an amused look on his face, “There goes your strange fascination with watching again, love.”

He laughs after she smacks him in the arm and she says, “Come on! Show me your skills, Jones!”

The look he gives her makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and before she can ask him again, he pushes himself up and walks over to the stereo.

“As you wish.”

Excited, she bounces on the couch and bites her lip when the strings of Frank Sinatra’s ‘Witchcraft’ begins to play over the speakers.

Killian turns back to her with a smirk on his face and when he steps toward her, her eyes go wide. “Uh, what?”

“You don’t truly expect me to simply… _dance_ for you, do you?”

“Oh, no,” she chuckles nervously while shaking her head. “I can barely _regular_ dance, there’s no way I can _ballroom_ dance.”

“A ballroom dance is like any other dance, love, and there is only one rule.” She looks to him in question and her stomach flips when he holds his hand out to her and says in a low, husky voice, “Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

Her eyes flicker between his hand and his face, her lips tugging up on the right before she places her wine glass on the table and takes his outstretched hand. He pulls her up, causing her to gasp and his smirk widens as he places his hand on the small of her back. Taking a deep, stuttering breath, she puts her hand on his arm while he takes the lead.

He moves them in perfect unison with the beat of the music and she can’t help but giggle after he twirls her around. Despite her telling him that she could barely regular dance, Emma has on occasion partaken in the activity, but none of those times have been as fun as this. Killian moves with ease, gliding them around the living room, avoiding the furniture all with a smile on his face and she can’t remember ever seeing him so carefree. His blue eyes are shining bright and the way he laughs makes him seem almost younger.

She steps on his foot after another twirl, the leather of his shoe cool against her toes and he smiles.

“Watch the mocking, I’m actually getting the hang of this.”

He pulls her close and she doesn’t miss the way his eyes move to her lips.

“I’m not mocking you, Swan. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.” Before she can ask him what he means, he dips her back, holding her there for a moment before he slowly pulls her back up and whispers, “You appear to be a natural.”

His breath is warm against her skin and for a brief moment, she wonders if he’s going to kiss her. It wouldn’t surprise her if he did, their faces are only centimeters apart and there’s a thickness in the air that’s practically begging for it to happen.

No, it wouldn’t surprise her at all, just like it wouldn’t surprise her if she didn’t stop him.  

Killian begins to sway them again and her fingers tighten around his as he starts to hum along with the tune.

_‘cause it’s witchcraft, wicked witchcraft_  
and although I know it’s strictly taboo  
when you arouse the need in me  
my heart says “yes, indeed” in me  
“Proceed with what you’re leadin’ me to”


	8. Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of @initiala and @idristardis I don’t look like a complete idiot. Thank you ladies.

_With his hands clasped behind his head, Killian lounges out on the grass in his backyard, enjoying the way the warm sun mixed with the slight breeze feels on his skin._

_“Want to hear something funny?”_

_“Hmm?”_

_“You snore.”_

_His eyes snap open, and he twists his head to look over at Emma to find her laying there with her eyes closed and a smile on her face. He waits until she looks to him with one eye cracked open before responding._

_“I bloody well do not!”_

_“Just like Liam.” He twists to face her, running his fingers through his hair before he props himself up on his elbow to look down at her. “I hear you every night.”_

_“From across the hall?”_

_Emma bites her lip as she nods and when he raises his eyebrow, she makes a face at him and he goes in for the attack. There’s a squeal that pierces through the air as she curls her body to protect herself while his hands slip underneath her t-shirt to tickle her sides._

_“Say I don’t snore!”_

_“You snore louder than anyone I know!”_

_His eyes widen as his mouth falls open before he doubles his efforts in tickling her. She cries out his name, her hands lightly slapping against him while she continues to laugh. For a solid minute he tickles her, enjoying the lovely sound of her giggles until she pushes forward. With a deep chuckle, he plays at struggling against her—though it’s not much of a play because she’s just as strong as he is—before he eventually allows her pin him to the ground. She drops onto his chest with her head falling into the crook of his neck and he nearly groans at the feel of her giggles against his skin._

_“I’m kidding, you don’t snore.”_

_With a small snort, his head falls back, and he feels her fingers flex around his wrists before she lets them go to place her hands on either side of his head. Emma pushes herself up just a little and he takes note to the shimmer of sweat that’s on her forehead and the way her cheeks are flushed. Her blonde locks cascade down around him and he finds his stomach knotting at how beautiful she looks._

_“If you say I snore,” he starts in a mumble, his eyes locked on her lips as he reaches up to twirl a piece of her hair around his finger. “Then I snore.”_

_He doesn’t miss the way she gasps or the way her breath feels warm on his face. The wind blows around them, the cool breeze from the water making the summer day bearable, though if he had to wager, he’d say the way they both shiver had nothing to do with it. Looking up to her eyes, he blinks once, twice, before he lifts his head slowly, offering her an out if she really wants it. There’s a nanosecond of a pause and he thinks she’s going to push off him; instead, she meets him halfway and presses her mouth to his._

_Emma’s lips are softer than anything he’s ever felt and the way she whimpers when he captures her top lip in between his nearly has him coming undone. There’s a small hum, he’s not sure if it’s comes from her or him, but her hands move to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over his scruff while he wraps his left arm around her. Moving his right hand to tangle more in her hair, he barely notices her groan as he—_

Killian wakes with a gasp and his arm drops down onto this chest. Blinking open sleepy eyes, he looks around to find himself in his room with a sliver of light peeking through his curtains and allows his head to fall back against his pillow. There’s a bite in the air which makes him quickly tuck his arm back under his blanket as he turns onto his side, his body curling slightly to preserve heat. Giving a small grunt in frustration, he shakes his head in hopes to rid himself of the fogginess still lingering from sleep and opens his eyes fully. Reaching over to turn on his bedside lamp, it takes a moment for his gaze to adjust to the sudden light and when it does, his eyes lock on the piece of paper that’s propped against his lamp.

The words ‘ ** _Happy Valentine’s Day, Killian_** ’ are spelled out in crossword puzzle blocks with a heart drawn around them, and every time he sees it, he can’t help the smile that pulls at the corners of his lips. Bringing the blanket up over his shoulders, he tucks his hands under his chin while he continues to look at the handmade card Emma gave him.

Truth be told, he hasn’t given the holiday much thought in recent years—with him being cursed and Liam being away from Graham, it’s been easy to forget about it all together, but then Emma gave him that damned note and all he’s thought about every time he sees it is how he wishes next year he could return the favor.

He ignores the voice in his head that tells him there won’t _be_ a next year and rubs his hand over his smooth head before using it as a pillow after he rolls on his back. Eventually, the snow is going to clear up and she’s going to leave. He’ll never see her again and be left to live out his days with only the memory of her.

The knock on his door jars him and before he can call out, Liam’s head pops through the now open door. His curls are sticking in every direction, his eyes are bloodshot and there are creases on his cheek from his pillow.

With a snort, Killian pushes himself up and asks, “You alright there, brother?”

Liam gives a frustrated grunt and Killian watches in amusement as his brother climbs into bed next to him and crawls under the blanket.

“Blast you and that damn rum,” Liam grumbles while pushing his face into the pillows and Killian can’t help but laugh.

The night before, the three of them had decided to have a couple of libations, which turned into a few libations, which turned into a handful of libations…

By the time the grandfather clock in the dining room chimed at midnight, Liam and Emma were singing their own rendition of ‘With a Little Help From My Friends’, while Killian, for the first time in three years, wished he hadn’t thrown his cell phone into the water so he could get it on record. His brother’s offbeat singing mixed with his horrendous dance moves had Killian nearly crying in laughter, which is something he was grateful for because it was a battle to keep his eyes away from Emma. Her skin was flushed due to the rum, her eyes were sparkling far more than any star he’d ever seen, and when she threw her head back in laughter, all the breath in his lungs seemed to escape.

“In my defense,” Killian chuckles above Liam’s muffled groans, “it _was_ Emma who suggested we drink, not me and you could have said no.”

“Aye.” There’s a huff before Liam lifts his head out of the pillow and looks up at him. “Speaking of, have you seen the lass?”

Scratching the back of his neck, Killian shrugs, “I’m still in bed, brother, I would imagine so is she.”

“Her bedroom door is open.” His eyes snap over to his brother and Liam nods, “I was going to make sure she’s feeling alright but when I saw the door was open… thought she might be in here.”

Killian’s brow pinches in confusion.

“Why would she be in here?” His brother lifts his head with his eyebrow raised and Killian asks, “What?”

The way Liam is looking at him makes him squirm a bit and it’s not until Killian lifts his hands in question that he finally answers, “I just thought… I don’t know, you two were still awake and giggling when I went to bed…” Killian’s brows raise in question again and Liam sighs, “I thought she came in here to spend the night with you.”

If he had been drinking something, he’d have choked on it. Instead, he shoots out of his bed to pace and asks, “Are you mad?”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Liam offers in a soft tone. “You’ve been dating for a month now, so—”

Killian scoffs, cutting him off, “D-dating?”

It’s his brother’s turn to look confused as he sits up halfway.

“Are you not dating?”

“No!” He cries out, wincing only slightly at his high-pitched voice. To distract himself, he yanks open the door to his bathroom and steps inside. His heart is beating hard in his chest and his stomach is in knots, because the thought of him dating _anyone_ is just… laughable. Picking up his toothbrush, he silently curses at the way his hand shakes while he squeezes out the toothpaste before he calls over his shoulder, “What the bloody hell made you think that?”

“You two spend an awful lot of time together.”

His face scrunches in confusion as he brushes his teeth. It’s true, they’ve grown closer in the weeks since Liam’s birthday— _incredibly_ close—but it wasn’t anything to overthink. Sure, they spend each night together, and yes, he’s learned more about her—like how someone grabbing her left arm will instantly trigger a panic attack—thanks to their own version of the game twenty questions. In reality, it’s more of an ask a random question that leads into story time game, but Liam spends time with them, too…

Occasionally.

“And that automatically means we’re dating?” He asks before rinsing his mouth.

“It’s a legitimate thought, little brother.”

Rolling his eyes, he sticks his toothbrush back in its holder and walks back out into his room to find Liam still laying in his bed, only now he has the blanket tucked up over his shoulders. Killian walks over to his dresser and pulls out a pair of socks before sitting down on his couch. He wants to tell his brother that he and Emma are simply friends, but when he tries, the words get stuck in the back of his throat.

“Younger and have you considered _other_ legitimate thoughts?”

“And have _you_ considered what her being here could mean?”

Killian pauses in tying his sneakers and stares hard at the ground. He’d be out of his bleeding _mind_ not to have considered it, especially now that they are closer, but it was impossible. They’ve only known each other for a short time and there’s no way—

Shaking his head to rid himself of impossible dreams, he stands and mutters, “It’s not something I wish to discuss.”

“You care for her, that much is obvious.”

“So do you.”

It’s a poor argument, Killian knows this, but it’s all he has.

“Aye, but you’re the one that _likes_ her.”

He pauses, his brothers words hitting him like a freight train, though he doesn’t allow for them to sink in because it’s… not… true…?

“I think your hangover has made you off your rocker.”

“Killian…”

After he puts his hoodie on, he turns back to Liam with a pleading look in his eyes.

“Brother, please.”

Liam’s silent for a moment while his looks Killian over. Feeling a little exposed, Killian reaches behind him to pull the hood over his head and his brother sighs.

“Alright.” Liam falls back down onto the bed and Killian lets out a breath of relief. “But that just means you have to make me breakfast.”

Killian feels his lips twitch. “Excuse me?”

“Something greasy.” Liam requests as he burrows further into the bed. “It’ll help soak up the alcohol. I think there’s still ham in the freezer.”

He almost snorts as he remembers the last time he attempted to make breakfast. It was Liam’s birthday—the first they’d spent together in _years_ —and Killian wanted to try and make it a little special by cooking breakfast. However, the only thing special was that they spent the morning together trying to put out the fire on the stove. Killian almost reminds Liam of this, but instead agrees because he really wants to go check on Emma. It’s unlike her to be out of her room so early. He usually has to wave a steaming cup of coffee outside of her door to make her come out, so he’s a little concerned.

“Your hungover arse better not get sick in my bed.”

Rather than responding, Liam asks over his shoulder, “Make some orange juice, will you?”

Before he walks out, Killian flips him off and jogs down the hall. Like Liam said, Emma’s bedroom door is open, so he checks the study before heading downstairs. He gives a quick look into the living room only to find that as empty as the study and moves to the kitchen. His concern rises when he sees that her coffee mug is sitting on the counter and he walks to the back door. She hasn’t walked down to the docks to check the service on her phone in weeks, but with being unable to find her…  

_What if she’s gone?_

Swiping at the corner of his lips, he reaches up to make sure his hoodie is secure on his head before he walks down into the basement. The sound of feet pounding on rubber echoes and a tension he was unaware he had been holding in his shoulders deflates.

_Of course she’s still here._

When Killian opens the door to the gym, he’s surprised to find Emma in a full-blown sprint on the treadmill. Her blonde hair is piled on top of her head, her cheeks are flushed, and her skin—along with his white tank top that she borrowed last week—is covered in a thin layer of sweat.

It’s incredibly arousing.

“Morning,” her voice breaks him out of his stupor, and he looks up in time to see her pulling the headphones out of her ears. “I was wondering how much longer you were going to sleep.”

Despite being breathless from running, her voice is chipper, upbeat, and the smile plastered on her face tells him she’s in nothing but a pleasant mood and he knows without a doubt that it’s all fake.

“Because it’s so late?”

She shrugs, not giving an answer and he presses his lips together. Moving to the front of the treadmill, he climbs onto it and holds back his laugh at Emma’s shocked expression.

“What are you doing?” She asks while moving her feet to the side rails.

“Nothing,” he answers, his voice like an audible shrug and when her eyes widen, he smirks, “What are you doing?”

Still trying to catch her breath, she waves her arms around and says, “I’m _trying_ to work out.”

“Aye, you’re trying to work out after a night of rum drinking at an hour in the morning you’re usually dead to the world.” She rolls her eyes and he leans forward to ask softly, “Are you alright, Swan?”

There’s another fake smile and tone as she responds, “I’m fine,” after she presses the stop button on the treadmill and steps off.

“If you say so, love,” Killian mumbles, his gaze moving down while she paces back and forth in an attempt, he assumes, to lower her heart rate. He knows she’s lying, she knows he knows she’s lying, but instead of calling her out on it, he taps his fingers against the plastic of the treadmill and steps off. “I’m going to make breakfast. If you’d like some, you’re more than welcome.”

From the corner of his eye he sees her sit down on the weight bench while she stretches her right arm across her chest.

“You make breakfast?”

Her jest is one that, normally, he’d respond to with his usual wit and they’d continue on bantering, but with the feeling that she’s keeping something from him, he finds himself more irritated than playful.

Clenching his jaw, he turns to her, “I can fry an egg, Swan.”

“I was kidding.” He doesn’t answer and resists the urge to roll his eyes. “So, have any plans for the day?”

Her tone is once again upbeat, but he can still hear the hint of something else lying underneath it.

“Thought about working on my boat. The snow has melted enough that I’m able to get down there, now.”

There’s a pause before he just barely hears her ask, “It has?”

Looking at her fully, he catches the frown she tries to hide and for the first time, he notices the light bruising under her eyes.

“Have you not been sleeping?” His voice is low and full of concern as he moves to sit down on the bench next to her.

She ignores his question, “Is it starting to clear up?”

A lump forms in his throat and he briefly looks down to his lap. “It could be. There’s no way to know for sure until we see the smoke rise.”

Silence falls between them, and Killian feels his stomach turn. In all the time they’ve spent talking, not once have they discussed the possibility of her leaving, and if he’s being honest, it’s something he’s glad for, because the thought of her leaving causes his insides to ache.

_“But you’re the one that likes her.”_

Emma heaves out a deep sigh before muttering, “I guess that’s a good thing.”

“Aye.” Now it’s his turn to force an upbeat tone and smile. “You’ll be able to see your brother finally.”

“Yeah…”

She trails off and Killian watches as she stands to walk over and throw her empty water bottle out. For a second, there’s a sliver of hope that she’s going to tell him that she’s as uneasy with leaving as he is, but he knows that’s just a fantasy.

“What is it?”

He doesn’t miss the way she pauses before she takes a deep breath and turns around, the fake smile again plastered on her face.

“I was actually thinking I’m probably just going to head back to New York.”

Unsure that he’s understanding her correctly, he tilts his head and asks, “What about Neal?”

“He’s probably gone by now,” she shrugs, her eyes on the ground. “So, there’s really no point in staying away.”

“And what of your brother?” Fixing his hood, he rubs his forehead and notes the way her shoulders seem to tense. “You said he could help with what you know.”

She sighs. “See, that’s the thing, I doubt Neal knows that I know anyway, he probably just assumes I left.”

“Without so much as speaking to him?”

Picking up her phone, she wraps her headphones around it and shrugs, “We never really talked about things before, why would we talk about me leaving?”

His eyes go slightly wide and he looks to the side. He knows the relationship between Emma and her ex wasn’t exactly a fairytale, from the stories he’s been told it seemed to be a relationship more of convenience than want. Though, he still doesn’t get how _anyone_ could be with a woman such as Emma and not spend every waking moment wanting to speak to her, let alone be okay with just having her leave. Killian’s tries to envision what it would be like to wake up and find Emma gone, but every time he does, his throat seems to close up and his eyesight gets a little hazy.

“That’s why I don’t need to go to Storybrooke,” she finishes with a tight smile. “There’s no point.”

Shaking his head, he stands. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t buy it.” The angered look she gives him instead of one of shock lets him know what he already suspected, she’s lying. “There’s another reason you don’t want to go to Storybrooke, so, what is it?”

“There is no other reason.”

He has to give it to her, were it not for the way she hissed her insistence through clenched teeth, he’d believe her, and were it two months prior, he’d let her go with her lie, but now, he stands his ground. Because while they hardly tell each other every little thing, they never lie to each other. Yes, they never agreed on it, but he believed it to be an unspoken rule of sorts.

“If you say so, Swan,” he huffs.

Her mouth falls open as he walks by her toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To make breakfast,” he says over his shoulder. “You can finish your workout now.”

“What?” She chuckles dryly just as he gets to the door. “You don’t like my response so you don’t want to be around me?”

Stopping, he clenches his jaw and hisses, “Why do you speak like a fool when you’re anything but a fool?”

Even without looking back, he knows that she’s standing there with her hands on her hips and an annoyed look on her face. Her eyes are most likely rolling toward the ceiling while her head falls back and a small sigh passes her lips. It’s the famous ‘Emma Nolan Annoyed’ look that he’s come to know and lo—

“Why do you think I’m lying?”

He turns back to her and points to the doorway, “Because I think not going to Storybrooke makes it a lot easier for you to pretend.”

“Pretend what?”

“That you’re not scared!” He nearly yells, stepping closer to her. “You’re terrified and it’s easier to run than face it!”

She presses her lips together while her hands clench at her sides. “And you’re judging me for it?”

“No, Emma, I’m not judging you,” he starts softly while shaking his head. “But don’t hide from it… face it.”

“Really?” She snorts and when he shrugs, she folds her arms across her chest and hisses, “You’re one to talk.”

His head snaps back and his brow furrows.

“What the bloody hell does that mean?”

“It means _exactly_ what it sounds like.” His jaw ticks, his anger almost bubbling to the surface as her arms uncross and she points to him while growling, “Name _one_ thing you’ve done since moving here that’s scared you!”

With a hard look on his face, he takes a step closer and looks directly into her eyes.

“Talk to you.”

Killian sees and _hears_ her suck in a stuttering breath at his confession, and though he feels more vulnerable with her than he did when she first saw his face, he also feels somewhat… relieved.

Emma lifts her hands before letting them slap against her thighs.

“I haven’t spoken to him in _months_ ,” she starts, her voice just barely above a whisper. “Now I’m supposed to just show up on his doorstep and beg for his help? What if he’s decided that he’s done with me?” Killian’s face softens at her words, but when he sees that her breathing is starting to pick up, he moves toward her. “Or what if he’s figured out his life is better without me in it? I can’t—”

Lightly grasping her upper arms, he urges, “Breathe or else you’ll give yourself a panic attack.” Her eyes are moving around wildly, and he reaches up to brush away a piece of her hair that’s fallen loose. “Breathe, darling.”

She listens to his instructions, sucking in a deep breath before blowing it out slowly while he cups her jaw. After a moment, she starts to breathe normal again, and her eyes focus on his.

“What if he hates me?”

With a small smile, Killian brushes his thumb over the swell of her cheek and mumbles, “Not possible.”

The right side of her lips twitch, and when her shoulders deflate, it makes his smile widen.

“You’re just saying that.”

Smirking, his hands fall down until they are grasping hers and he says, “I assure you, I’m not. You’re a bit prickly, but I doubt there’s a person alive that could hate you.”

“I’m sure there are a few people I lived with when I was younger that would disagree with you,” she breathes out, a hint of amusement in her tone before the smile drops from her face and her voice goes up an octave, “I’m prickly?”

He throws his head back and laughs at that, the adorable confused look on her face too much for him to handle. Her hands tighten on his and he thinks he sees something in her eyes—no, it can’t be. Concentrating on ignoring his own thoughts, he doesn’t realize until the last second that she’s pulling him in for a hug. Swallowing back his surprise, he slowly wraps his arms around her and prays to whoever is listening that she can’t hear the thundering of his heart.

“May I ask what brought this on?”

Her arms squeeze around him, and for a moment, he thinks she won’t answer before he hears her mumble, “Next week is David’s birthday. I’ve never _not_ spoken to him on his birthday… when he doesn’t hear from me he’s going to be so hurt.”

“Oh, love,” he tilts his head so it’s resting upon hers, “you’ll get to explain and he’ll understand.”

“You really think so?”

“Without question.”

Killian holds her close, silently rejoicing over how he can feel the warmth of her skin through their clothing. He thought only in his dreams, where he wasn’t cursed to look like a monster, that he’d know the pleasure of having Emma in his arms, but here she is and it’s _everything._

“How about on his birthday we do something special?”

He feels her lips move against him when she asks, “Like what?”

Rubbing a hand softly down her back, he begins to rock her and suggests, “Perhaps we could go sailing? If the weather stays the way it is, I could be finished with the boat by the weekend.”

She pulls back and though he’s wishes for nothing more than to keep her close, his hold on her loosens. Though, she surprises him again by not letting go completely, only moving enough to look up at him with her lips parted. She looks beautifully surprised.

_“But you’re the one that likes her.”_

“You’d do that?”

“Aye.”

When he sees the look on Emma’s face this time, there’s no ignoring his thoughts and it makes his blood race, because he knows for a fact, she’s _never_ looked at him this way before.

“Let’s go make your brother some breakfast.”

It’s not until Emma pulls him forward that he follows her and that night, he dreams they are out on his boat, and when he catches sight of himself in the reflection of the water, he’s unaffected by the scars and black vines that tattoo his skin.

* * *

For as long as Killian can remember, he’s been fascinated by history. To know the stories behind a place or an object… to know how certain events came to pass and why the world is the way it is… he loved it all. It didn’t matter if he read a hundred books on the American Civil War by a hundred different authors, if he found one he _hadn’t_ read yet, by the end of the day, his new total would be a hundred and one. His father thought it was pointless, said there was nothing to learn from the past and that one should simply forget it and move on. So, after he was locked away from the world, he spent a small fortune of his father’s money on the purchase and delivery of history books to fill the study upstairs, knowing that it would annoy the hell out of Brennan.

He wishes he could say that he read all of them, but in his time of wallowing in self-pity and anger, he allowed his love for history to fall by the wayside. It wasn’t until he and Emma were talking one night that he’d start to think about it again. Killian told her how he always dreamed of becoming a history teacher, of how he used to get distracted for hours with documentaries or books, though when she suggested he start it up again, he was hesitant. What was the point in indulging in a fantasy? Then Emma came into the living room one morning with a book on the Revolutionary War and asked him to read it to her.

_“Come on, it’ll be fun! You can teach an ungrateful Yankee like myself what really happened.”_

Unable to say no to her adorable pout, Killian snatched the book out of her hands and has been indulging ever since. He’s even forgone his workouts to finish a chapter and while it’s not something he wishes to make a habit out of, he does find it leaving him less tense.

The grandfather clock chimes from the dining room, but it’s the feel of the feet in his lap moving that draws him away from the tales of Hitler and the Third Reich. From the corner of his eye, he sees Emma propped up against the arm of the couch, bouncing a pen between her fingers with her eyes locked on his crossword puzzle book. Since they hugged last week, Emma has been much more open when it comes to physical contact between them. She’ll grab his arm a lot more, they hug at least twice a week, and when he reads to her, she’ll rest her head on his shoulder—there was even the time the French doors of the living somehow closed on her left arm, and she threaded her fingers through his to keep herself from having a panic attack.

That was… nice.

“What’s the outer bone of your forearm called?”

Without looking up from his book, he asks, “How many letters?”

“Six.”

“Radius.” There’s a pause and when he doesn’t hear the soft sound of pen gliding across the paper, he looks over to find her staring at him. She’s biting her bottom lip in, what he assumes, an attempt to hide her grin while her eyes sparkle. “What?”

“Besides history, what’s your favorite subject?”

Tilting his head for a quick moment, he thinks before responding with, “Probably astronomy, the stars have always fascinated me, as well. I actually taught myself at a young age how to navigate them.”

“Seriously?” Her tone is riddled with disbelief and when he shrugs, she says, “Anyone ever tell you that you’re kind of a nerd?”

Closing his book, he places his right arm on the back of the couch and looks to her with his brow raised.

“Excuse me?” There’s tint of pink that colors her cheeks and when she tries to hide behind the puzzle book, he smirks. “I’m sorry, should I have spent my time daydreaming about some celebrity bloke… what was his name?” He pretends to think on it as her eyes narrow and her expression becomes somewhat unimpressed.

Unimpressed is his favorite look on her, besides delighted, and angry, and laughing…

He likes most of her looks if he really thinks about it.

“Josh something?” He asks in feign confusion making her eyes go wide. “Hartnett! It was Hartnett because you scribbled EN heart JH all over the place, did you not?”

“I so regret telling you that!” She groans while reaching forward to smack him in the chest, despite the wide smile that’s pulling at her lips.

His laughter begins to die down and he runs a hand over his smooth head as he continues, “But, aye, astronomy. When I thought I was going to college, I planned on having it as a minor.”

“I wish I had your enthusiasm to learn about new things,” she mumbles as she tosses the puzzle book onto the coffee table.

“You just have to find things that interest you, love, and start small. Tell me, what type of books do you like to read?”

Killian finds it absolutely adorable the way her entire face scrunches while she seems to think on her answer before she lifts her feet from his lap. He swallows back his disappointment, fighting the urge to ask her to place them back when he sees her sit up on her knees which brings her _closer_.

“Well,” she adjusts herself so that her legs are curled beside her and places her arm next to his on the back of the couch, “I’ll read just about anything, really. Oh! Except for mysteries, I don’t like them.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t like the unknown because it can give false hope...” He rests his head on his closed fist as she trails off and waits for her to continue. “Not having an answer is painful enough, but… giving someone unrealistic hope is far worse.”

He hesitates before responding while his eyes move over her. There’s a hint of discomfort that flashes across her face and her nose wrinkles ever so slightly which causes a knot to form in his stomach.

“What unrealistic hope were you given?” Her lips purse slightly, and he adds, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Emma’s gaze moves down to the spot between them as she mumbles, “When I was younger, I had the normal dream for an orphan… I dreamed our parents were going to come back for us because David never told me why they wouldn’t.” There’s a lump that forms in his throat and she looks back up to him. “It wasn’t until I was ten that he finally told me they died in a car accident… on my first birthday.”

He sucks in a breath, a rush of sadness pouring over him because he remembers how nonchalant she was when the subject of her birthday came up—told him that she rarely celebrated it. Knowing that she was lying, he called her out on it, but she simply looked at him and uttered “pass” before turning away. It was a rule they had, if either of them ever deemed a question _too_ personal, or they didn’t wish to answer, one would simply need to say _pass_ and it would be forgotten, no questions asked. So, when she said it, the subject was changed, though in the back of his mind, he always wondered.

Now he knows why.

“Love,” he breathes out while taking her hand in his, “I’m so sorry.”

“I cried so hard that the foster family we were with at the time actually thought that I was having an allergic reaction to something because my eyes were so swollen,” she chuckles darkly, running a hand through her hair before she looks to the fire. “I haven’t cried since.”

Both of his brows raise. Surely she can’t mean what she’s implying…

“You mean you haven’t cried that hard since?”

Her eyes lock with his.

“I mean I haven’t shed one single tear since I was ten years old.”

Silence falls between them, the only sound coming from the crackle of the fire as he thinks about what she’s just told him. It’s not that he would say he cries a lot—men didn’t cry his father always told him—but he knew that he was capable of the emotion. He knows this because there were many times where he was on the verge of crying after he was cursed, but he was able to push it down with anger… it makes him wonder if she’s unconsciously done the same.

“Sometimes I wonder if I ever will again… or if I’m too broken.”

Her voice breaks him out of his thoughts and he realizes that he’s been so distracted, that he didn’t even notice she’s started to fiddle with his bracelet. It’s something she does every so often, and it never ceases to surprise him because the feel of the slightest brush of her fingers against his skin is like Christmas morning.

“You’re not broken, Swan. Trust me.” There’s a forced smile and her eyes stay locked on his bracelet, so he jests, “You’ll cry again, you just need to find something worth crying for.”

She looks up at him through her eyelashes, and for a moment, he thinks he’s said the wrong thing. It’s true they’ve shared personal things with each other in recent weeks—she knows that he was in the hall that first night and he knows that she came in with her pepper spray and gun, that is now locked in a drawer in her room. She also knows that what happened to him was because of an affair, but maybe talking about her parents and her not crying is a bit too much for her.

“You know, you’re the first person, besides David, that’s said something like that…” He raises a brow, opening his mouth to respond when she leans forward and presses her lips to his cheek. “Thank you.”

He feels his skin heat as he scratches the back of his neck, while Emma moves to her previous position and grabs the crossword puzzle book from the coffee table. A few moments later, Liam stops in to say goodnight and Killian doesn’t miss the way his brother eyes the two of them with a small smirk pulling at the edge of his lips before he disappears upstairs.

Killian has thought about what his brother said to him a lot in the last week—Liam’s blasted words won’t leave his head—and every time he does think about it, he comes to the conclusion that they are ridiculous. So he likes her. Who wouldn’t? She’s strong, independent, funny, not to mention beautiful, and she understands him—sometimes, he thinks, better than he understands himself. He believes she likes him, not in the way that he likes her, she can at least stand to be around him, but that doesn’t mean they are _dating_. Not that he wouldn’t, he’d gladly have Emma Nolan be the first woman he ever took on a date, but she deserves so much better than a monster like him. Not to mention that she wouldn’t…

_Would she?_

It’s not until Emma announces that she’s going to bed that he finally snaps back to reality.

“Swan, wait.” He jumps up just in time to see her turn back to him. “I was, uh… well… must you go to bed?” Her brow furrows and he gives a breathless chuckle while he scratches the back of his ear. “What I meant was are you very tired?” Taking a deep breath when she tilts her head, he asks, “Would you like to go up onto the roof deck and watch the sunrise with me?”

There’s a flicker of surprise that crosses her face and he suddenly regrets his decision. It was stupid to think he could just ask her out, that she’d agree to stay up all night instead of going to sleep. His only saving grace is that he’s able to brush it off as nothing, that it wasn’t meant to be a dat—

“Yes.” His mouth falls open and Emma bites her bottom lip. “I’d love to.”

Even if he wanted to, Killian couldn’t fight the wide smile that threatens to split his face in half, and another chuckle escapes the back of his throat as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Brilliant.”

“We still have a couple hours…” His happiness begins to fade at her words. “But I think if we have a fire and some blankets we should be okay. What do you think?”

His smile is back and he nods. “Aye, I think so, too.”

They spend the night up on the bench under a blanket with a fire blazing in front of them doing what they always do… they talk. She tells him more about not being able to cry, about how she used to try and make herself do it when she was young, but the only person that would end up crying would be David while she just ended up being pissed, and he tells her more about the tricks his father would play to keep him and Liam apart.

“So, he actually called the phone company and had Liam’s number blocked from your phone?”

Swallowing down the hot chocolate they’re sharing he nods and he twists the cap back on the canister before his hand moves back under the blanket and rests on her right ankle. What surprises him the most about their current position—her legs bent over his lap and his right hand unconsciously fiddling with the string of his hoodie that she’s wearing—is how right it feels and how much it clears his head. Gone are all the dreadful thoughts, the worrying that she’d find his closeness unwanted, and despite them talking about a subject that is painful, gone is all the anger.

“That way if we wanted to speak to each other, it had to be through him. He’d also purposely wait to tell me Liam had called, that way Liam would think I just wasn’t calling him back and I would think Liam had forgotten to call when he said he would.”

“Wow,” she breathes out while shaking her head. “I’d like to say I’m surprised, but David and I had a few foster parents that tried to rip us apart like that, but not nearly as bad as your dad.”

“Part of me wants to believe it was because he was lonely and he knew that given the chance I’d leave with Liam,” Killian starts as he adjusts his beanie. “But then I learn something new about him and I’m reminded that he really is just a bastard.”

She threads her fingers through his and places her free hand on his right shoulder. “At least you guys have each other now… you and Liam, and he can’t take that away from you anymore.”

Smiling, his eyes move to the flames while he mumbles, “No, he can’t.”

They sit on the roof deck for three hours waiting for the sunrise and while at first he was worried that she’d get bored—it’s not like he has ever planned a date before—quickly he finds his worry is for nothing. Not once is there a drop in the conversation and when they need a break from the heavy topics, Killian teaches her a few card tricks he’s learned. The fire and the blankets, along with the space heater, keep them warm—though he’d gladly freeze if it meant he could continue to hold Emma in his arms.

By the time the flames begins to die down, Emma has shifted on the bench to rest her head on his shoulder and their hands are intertwined while he softly hums. The smell of the fire surrounds them and he’s so distracted by the way her thumb rubs over over his knuckle that he doesn’t catch the first rays of light until Emma whispers, “The sun is coming up.”

He continues to hum as he looks out to the water, the glimmering yellows and pinks reflecting off the waves and he feels rather than hears Emma yawn. She lifts her head and scoots down the bench, giving her just enough room to lay down and rest her head in his lap.

“I’m glad we did this,” she whispers, her right hand moving to find his left. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

Blinking, he looks down as he reaches to move a piece of her hair away so that he may see the side of her face and it’s like his heart skips a beat. The shadows from the small flames dance across her face and while the sun hasn’t risen quite high enough yet to illuminate them, there’s a tease of light that’s somehow managed to sneak its way onto her lips.

“Neither have I,” he mumbles, never taking his gaze from her.

It’s not until the sun is almost fully in the sky, and Emma’s eyes are long shut and her breathing has evened out, that Killian finally drags his gaze back up to the water. The town of Storybrooke looks so peaceful, and for the first time, he doesn’t find himself wishing he could be out there, because for the first time, he’s completely content to stay right where he is. There’s an echo in the wind, and as the sun rises higher into the sky, that’s when he sees it…

Smoke rising from the chimneys of his father’s shipping company.

And it’s not until that moment that he realizes something he hadn’t before… something he’s been fighting against… something he thinks he’s known for a while now...

Killian’s fallen in love with Emma.


	9. Hey Jude

Killian’s checking the rigging on his boat when he hears the door creak open and he looks ups to find Liam walking in. His brother holds his hand out to keep it from flying back at him, and when it doesn’t, his brow furrows. “When did you fix the door?”

Pulling the rope to make sure it’s secure, he answers, “I didn’t. Emma did.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees Liam approach with what appears to be an impressed look on his face. “She really is brilliant, isn’t she?”

The smile that seems to appear whenever Killian thinks of the beautiful blonde that has taken over his entire life spreads across his lips and he nods. “Aye, she is.” He can feel his brother’s eyes on him, but instead of acknowledging it, he motions with his head and says, “Come here and hold this for me, will you?”

The boat rocks a little as Liam steps aboard and when he takes the rope, Killian climbs up onto the boat’s railing to triple check the knot on the sail. “So, Emma says you’re taking her sailing?”

“Aye,” Killian answers, his fingers brushing over the sail to check for rips. “We aren’t going to go too far, but I thought it would be nice to stretch the old girl’s legs.”

“Brother, you’re leaving the grounds for the first time in three _years_ , I don’t bloody care if it’s only to the main road and back, I’m thrilled.” Killian looks down at him with a blank stare, and Liam continues. “Honestly! She told me what was going on and I didn’t believe her.”

Stepping back down, Killian rolls his eyes and takes the rope back from Liam. “Is that why you’ve come out here?”

“Yup.”

With a snort, Killian begins to loop the rope on a hook. “Or is it because I told you that I wished to speak to you tonight before dinner?”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it,” Liam responds with a shrug, making Killian laugh.

“I knew I should have waited until we came back to bring it up.” Dropping the rope onto the deck, he motions to the bench. “Let’s have a seat, shall we?”

“Little brother, the last time you were this serious about having a conversation with me, it was to ask if it was normal for a girl to stick her tongue down your throat when she kissed you.”

Eyes going wide, Killian slaps his hands on his thighs as he sits. “Wow, thank you very much for that memory that I seemed to have forgotten.”

Liam laughs loudly. “You’re very welcome, and there are plenty more where that came from, I assure you.”

Shaking his head with a smile, he mumbles, “Of that I have no doubt.”

“Alright then, what is it you wanted to speak to me about? Are you okay?”

Looking down at his lap, Killian takes a moment to think of his words and gather his emotions, because he knows the conversation he’s about to have is going to take some energy. Which is why he had hoped to have it _after_ he got back from sailing with Emma.

_No such luck there._

Taking a deep breath, Killian begins the best way he thinks is possible. “I want Graham to move in with us.”

It appears to take a moment for his words to sink in, but when they do, Liam sits up straight and gasps. “You do? Honestly?”

“Honestly? No.” Liam’s face drops and Killian holds his hands up. “What I _want_ is for you to go live with Graham far away from this house and get married and have a family and have a happy life together. But you’ve made it abundantly clear that you leaving is _not_ going to happen, and I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do. So, yes, I want him to move in with us.”

Before he’s even finished speaking, Liam is pulling him into a hug and he can’t help but chuckle. “Oh, little brother, thank you! _Thank_ you.”

When Liam pulls back, Killian nods. “We’ll have to figure something out so the three of us aren’t stuck here during the winter months any longer and perhaps get a landline installed as well, but aye, I think him moving in is a great idea.” He nearly falls back when Liam leaps forward to press a hard kiss to his cheek and laughs while trying to push him away. “I do have one request, though.”

“Of course, anything you want.”

Killian reaches up to wipe the side of his lips and sighs. “When you have guests over warn me so that I’m able to stay away?”

“No, Killian, you don’t have to worry about that, no one else will come to this house, I assure you.”

“Brother, please,” Killian interrupts. “Graham knows many people in town, and you’ll be living together. Of course, you’ll want to entertain. All I’m asking is for a little notice.”

“Alright, though I still don’t think it will happen, I agree. But, can I ask you something?” Killian motions for him to continue and Liam takes a deep breath. “How do you know by then you won’t be… _coming_ around.”

Despite the smile on his face, Killian’s eyes roll at his brother’s attempt to not mention the curse. “I might be, but as of right now, I don’t know if I’ll be comfortable enough.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

With a sigh, Killian pushes himself up and walks to the edge of the boat while he adjusts his beanie. “I know what you’re saying, brother, but it won’t be like that, trust me.”

“How do you know?”

Pressing his lips together, he ignores the tight knot that’s twisting in his gut before giving Liam a sad smile and revealing what he learned. “Because my time is up at three o’clock this afternoon.”

Just as he suspected, Liam’s eyes go wide before he shoots up and rushes forward. “What do you mean your time is up? Are you sure? How do you know?”

Killian holds his hand up in an attempt to calm his brother before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the watch. He presses the button to reveal the watch face with the nearly bloomed rose behind the cracked glass and hands it to Liam. “I noticed the other night that the rose was almost in full bloom, so, I did the math and knowing what today is… it wasn’t that hard to figure out.”

Liam’s head snaps up, the watch still clutched tightly in his hands. “What’s today?”

Folding his arms across his chest, Killian leans back and says, “March thirtieth, the third anniversary of Gold cursing me.” When Liam’s brow furrows, Killian pushes up the sleeve of his Henley and shows him the vines of the triad on his right forearm. The same vines that used to move rapidly whenever he’d look down at them, but now move slowly along like they are losing power. “The amount of time I had has been with me all along.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Liam whispers in disbelief, his hand wrapping around Killian’s arm as he examines the triad before he looks back up to him.

“There’s nothing you could have done,” Killian cuts in while he pulls his sleeve back down. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not!” Liam hisses, unshed tears making his eyes glisten. “You don’t deserve this, you’re a good man!”

“I did deserve this,” Killian counters with a nod. “I was arrogant, and uncaring of others and their feelings. I believed things should have been handed to me because I was good looking and while I did love Milah, the second I found out she was married I should have backed off.” Shaking his head, a dark chuckle passes his lips after he mutters, “If anything, this should have happened to me sooner.”

Liam’s tears are running freely now, and he shakes his head. “I should have done something else to help you. I should have pushed you to go out and meet someone sooner… I’ve failed you… _again_.”

Killian pulls Liam to him, wrapping his arms around his older brother and hugging him close. It doesn’t surprise him that Liam’s so upset, he expected it even, because while Killian has always known that the curse would never be broken, Liam had long held onto hope that it would be. “You haven’t failed me, brother, there’s _nothing_ you could have done.”

“I should have taken you with me,” Liam lightly sobs. “All those years ago, if I had taken you, this would have never happened.”

Smiling, Killian mumbles, “We’ve moved passed this, Liam. There are things we _both_ should have done.”

Liam pulls back, his hands cupping Killian’s face. “Can you ever forgive me?”

“Yes, and I have,” Killian doesn’t hesitate to respond. “But that’s not what’s important, you need to find a way to forgive yourself.”

His brother sniffles and reaches up to wipe at his face. “Have you forgiven yourself?”

“Not all the way,” Killian admits as he tilts his head, a thoughtful look on his face. “But I’m starting to.”

“You’re very insightful today, little brother.”

“Younger,” he says with a wink before pushing himself forward to where he left the untied rope. “I’ve learned something since realizing my time was up…”

“Aye? And what is that?”

With a smile he turns back to Liam. “It’s not the power of the curse, it’s the power you _give_ the curse… and I’m done letting it have power over me.”

“What’s changed since the last we spoke about it, then?” Liam appears next to him again and Killian waits until he’s finished tying the rope to look at him. When he does, Liam’s eyes go wide. “It’s Emma, isn’t it?”

Killian thinks back on the night prior, and how they were lying next to each other in the study while they read a book. Well, Emma read while he enjoyed the way her hair would occasionally brush against his cheek and he fell asleep to the only the voice that is capable of making a Stephen King novel sound soothing. He awoke in the morning still on the floor in the study with his arms wrapped around Emma and her head on his chest.

If hadn’t realized his love for her the other night while they were up on the roof deck, he’d have figured it out then, because waking up with her in his arms was the most wonderful feeling he’s ever experienced.

“Aye,” he whispers with a smile. “It’s Emma.”

Liam’s face brightens. “You’re in love with her?”

“More than I ever thought possible.” A small laugh passes his lips and he shakes his head. “With Milah it was thrilling and exciting, and new, but there was always this tiny part of me that believed I couldn’t be myself, you know?” Liam nods, the right side of his lips pulled up and Killian continues, “But with Emma…” He blows out a breath as he struggles to find the words. “It’s different.”

“How do you mean?”

Adjusting his beanie, he tilts his head and starts with a mumble, “I’m not sure, exactly.” He thinks back on the morning three days prior when he realized he was in love with her. How after the sun rose, he practically carried Emma down to her room to put her to bed and when he went into his own room, he found the watch. But instead of dread, or fear, he felt _happy_ … Happy because he knew the moment he was to be cursed forever, it would be spent with Emma and that meant _everything_.

“It’s just different,” he finishes.

“But isn’t that it, then? You done what was needed…” Killian shakes his head and Liam frowns. “What do you mean no? You just said you love her!”

“I do,” Killian assures, a wistful smile pulling at his lips. “I love her more than I ever loved anyone, she has made me a better man and the thought of being away from her makes me physically ill.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Rubbing his hands down his face, he takes a deep breath and faces his brother. “The terms of the curse were that I had to find someone to fall in love with _me_ , not the other way around.”

“What if she does?” Liam holds his arms out and Killian gives a soft chuckle.

“It’s a lovely thought,” he murmurs while scratching the back of his head. “But she doesn’t.”

“How do you know?”

Killian opens his mouth to answer when through the window he catches sight of Emma exiting the back of the house. She’s wearing her ever present gray beanie along with her red leather jacket over one of his hoodies, and it’s not until she turns to head toward the boathouse that he sees his black leather jacket tossed over her arm. Feeling his stomach flip at her thoughtfulness, he nods to the window. “Here she comes.”

He moves to double check that the boat is ready when Liam grasps his arm. “Killian—”

“Brother, please. This is what I want,” he insists. “I promise.”

“Tell her.” Killian’s head snaps back, a protest already on his lips when Liam holds up his hand. “She deserves to know.”

Killian’s lips press firmly together as he allows his brother’s words to sink in. The truth is, he never planned on telling Emma how he feels. She was going to be leaving any day and what was the point if he was never going to see her again? The creaking sound of the door makes him jump and he steps back as Emma walks in.

“Hey!”

Her voice is like music to his ears and he can’t help the way his lips spread into a wide smile.

“Bloody hell, it’s all over your face,” Liam whispers.

Elbowing him, Killian steps forward to offer his hand to her. “Hello, love. You ready to set sail?”

“You think it’s still okay to go?” She asks while handing him his jacket. “It’s a little cloudy out.”

“We should be fine.”

His answer seems to make her feel better, because the crease on her forehead disappears and her smile brightens. “Good. Hey, Liam are you—everything alright?”

Killian looks up from putting his jacket on and watches as Emma steps forward to place her hand on Liam’s—whose eyes are still brimmed red from his tears—elbow.

“Aye, lass,” he assures as he reaches up to wipe under his eyes. “I was just…” Liam trails off and Killian catches his gaze over Emma’s shoulder. Shaking his head, he hopes Liam understands his silent plea and watches as his brother looks back to Emma with a tight smile. “I was just reminding Killian of the time when he was a baby and he stripped his diaper off before running through park.”

“Bloody hell,” Killian groans, his head dropping while Emma snorts out a laugh.

“It was very funny to see his reaction.”

“Sounds like it.” Her tone tells Killian that she might not totally believe what Liam is telling her, but he doubts she’ll say anything. “Are you coming with us?”

Liam’s eyes show a hint of sadness again before he masks it with a smile. “No, no. You two go on ahead. I’m going to make sure everything is in order for when Graham comes.”

Though he fights it, Killian can’t help but look to Emma to see her reaction to the news. While he hasn’t mentioned anything to her about the smoke rising from the chimneys, he’s sure she’s seen it. It was just yesterday he came down into the kitchen to find her staring out the back door with a frown on her face. He assumed it was because she’s still nervous about seeing her brother again, so he didn’t ask, but it was also because he didn’t want to think about it.

“Oh, right. I should probably do that, too.”

He tilts his head as he pulls his hood from under his jacket. She hasn’t gathered her belongings yet? It’s true, she doesn’t have many, but it doesn’t explain why she would wait until last minute. He’s told her that Graham shows up within a week of the smoke rising and it’s already been three days.

Shaking his head, he moves to pull up the gangplank after he hears Liam step off the boat.

“Killian?” He looks down at his brother and presses his lips together. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

* * *

“This is amazing,” Emma gasps as she looks over the side of the boat once they are finally out on the water.

Chuckling, he fixes a sail that’s fluffled and moves closer to her. They had a bit of a rough start getting out of the boathouse, but since then they’ve been blessed to have the wind on their side, though it does make it a bit chilly, even with their jackets and hoodies on underneath. “I take it you’ve never been sailing?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” He waits until she looks up to ask what she meant and watches as she motions around the boat. “Killian… we’re sailing on a boat that you worked on and restored all by yourself after it was left to _rot_. Do you not see how cool this is?”

His mouth falls open, though no words come out. He never really thought about all the work he’s put into restoring her—it just kept him busy and helped when his mind would go to dark places. Stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, he lifts his shoulders in a small, unsure shrug. “No?”

Despite her smile, her eyes roll before she grabs at the lapels of his jacket. “Come here.” He moves forward when she pulls him and looks down as she motions to the water. “ _Look!_ This is staying afloat because of the work _you_ put into this. Aren’t you proud of yourself?”

“It’s been a long while since I’ve been proud of myself, Swan,” he admits with a sad smile while scratching the back of his ear.

She places her left hand on his bicep. “Well, I’m proud of you.” He looks toward her, only just noticing how close they are and smiles. “You did a great job. I can’t wait to tell David about it. He’s going to love it, too.”

At the mention of her brother, he rests his elbow on the side of the boat, watching as she walks a few feet ahead. “A fan of the water, is he?”

She’s pulling the cuffs of his borrowed hoodie through the sleeves of her red leather jacket, covering her hands against the cold, when she turns back to him. He’s about to ask if she’d like to borrow his gloves when she says, “He likes to go fishing, though I don’t think he’s very good at it. He says it relaxes him.”

“Aye, it can be quite relaxing. It’s been years since I’ve done it myself.”

Killian’s head tilts as she walks back up to him, and he only allows himself to be distracted for a moment by the pink of her cheeks.

“Besides actually being with him… I can’t think of a better way than this to celebrate his birthday. Thank you for bringing me out here.”

He feels his heart burst at the way she smiles at him. “Of course, love, your heart's desire is all I want.”

They stare at each other for a long while, and for the first time, he considers doing as Liam suggested and telling her how he feels. Then a harsh wave of water hits the side of the boat, which makes them both stumble and he changes his mind.

“Well, if it’s my heart’s desire, then you should have no problem letting me be captain and steer the boat.” She throws him a wink as she walks past him toward the helm and he can’t hide the chuckle that falls past his lips.

“As you wish, Captain Swan.”

* * *

An hour after they’ve been on the water, Killian pulls out the picnic basket he’d packed and they sit in the middle of the deck enjoying a late lunch. It’s getting colder as the day moves along and he wants to tell her that he’d love to take her out again when it gets warmer—just thinking about her hair glowing in the sunlight makes his heart skip—but he knows he’s on borrowed time and he reminds himself that he’s grateful for the time they do have.

“I wrote David a letter.”

He swallows down a bite of his sandwich before responding. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I started it after we talked in the basement. I thought it would be a good way to explain everything that’s happened, because if I wait until I see him then I’m just going to fuck it up somehow,” she chuckles while she wipes her hands with a napkin. “Besides, when I tell him about Neal, he’s not going to want to think about anything else, so, at least this way he’ll have my words on paper so he can go over them again when he has a clearer head.”

“I think that’s a good idea, love.”

Her smile is small and when she reaches up to scratch at her neck, he can’t help but get distracted by the curve of her jaw. Oh, how he wishes he could run his fingers down it, to feel every inch. He imagines her skin would prickle with goosebumps as he did it, and if not then, it would when he pressed his nose there to breathe in her scent.

“You know,” her voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “I was thinking earlier as I was getting ready… New York is really loud.”

“Is it?” he asks, a hint of amusement lacing his voice.

“I mean, my apartment _is_ right down the street from a nightclub, but it’s still really loud.”

His brow furrows as he picks up the canister of hot chocolate. “That sounds awful.”

“Yeah, it is.” She takes a deep breath, one that causes her shoulders to lift before they drop as she looks out into the distance. “I bet Storybrooke isn’t loud.”

His throat constricts causing him to choke on the hot chocolate that he’s only halfway swallowed. His lungs try to dispel the invading liquid, while Emma reaches over to slap at his back. She asks him if he’s alright and he nods while coughing into his arm.

“Aye,” he answers, his voice still a bit raspy. “Wrong pipe.”

She gives him a smile before picking up her sandwich and taking another bite. There’s a silence that falls between them, the only sound coming from the waves hitting the side of the boat, and he finds that his heart is still beating wildly in his chest, but something tells him it’s not from the coughing fit.

Killian wants to ask her what she means by her comment, because though his brain is telling him to be logical, his heart can’t help but hope…

“It seems to be.” Emma looks back to him as he speaks, and he motions to the town. “Storybrooke—it seems quiet.”

“It does,” she nods before chuckling. “I know real-estate is cheap. David made it a point to tell me that when I came to visit.”

His breathing starts to pick up. “Are you thinking of moving here?”

“I know David would be happy,” she comments, her eyes back on the water. “And Mary Margaret. Graham probably wouldn’t mind either.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches up to scratch the back of his ear and adds, “I know I wouldn’t mind.” Her gaze moves once again to him, and though he’s nervous, he lifts his shoulder in a shrug, “It would be… nice.”

“So... you’d let me come visit?” Her tone is playful, as is the way she bumps her shoulder against his, but he can read between the lines. He heard the pause and it makes him love her all the more.

_Oh, you silly girl, don’t you know?_

He thinks of playing it off as she did, telling her a lot of ‘I don’t knows’ and ‘maybes’ so that they may banter as they usually do, but with his heart so full at the thought of her moving to Storybrooke, he can’t.

“You needn’t ask, Emma,” he starts low and with a small shake of his head. “You’re welcome to come visit anytime.”

There’s a smirk on her lips as she folds her legs in front of her. “Good.”

The sound that falls from his lips is a mixture of a giggle and a breathless chuckle as he looks down briefly at his lap. He’s schooled himself to being okay with being cursed forever, to being okay with his feelings only ever being one sided and being okay with her leaving… but now that she’s considering staying… he dares to think that perhaps one day, she might feel as he does.

“Oh!” He looks up to find her pulling her hands out of the front pocket of his hoodie and his brow lifts when he sees her cell phone. “I forgot, I brought this. I wanted to show you those pictures I was telling you about last night.”

She pushes the basket aside so she can scoot next to him and he sucks in a breath. The way she practically sits in his lap doesn’t go unnoticed, and without really thinking, he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her close. Seeming unaffected by his actions, Emma continues to thumb through her phone and Killian ignores Liam’s voice in the back of his head that implores him to tell her how he feels.

_Maybe she—no._

“Oh! Here it is.” She turns in his lap, her left arm moving to wrap around him while she holds up her phone up. “This is me, Graham, and David when I came to visit… Mary Margaret bought us all fake mustaches.”

Snorting, he reaches up to hold her phone and says, “Graham looks ever so pleased.”

“He hated every second of it, that’s why it’s so funny. I think there’s another—” Emma swipes her finger across the photo for it to move to the next and what he sees makes his eyes go wide. “—oh, shit, no, sorry!”

The picture is one she must have taken of herself, and from the quick glimpse he got, he saw that she was wearing what appeared to be thick, black rimmed glasses with white tape around the middle. Her hair was pulled back into two pigtails, and she was scrunching her face together in the most adorable way.

“What was that?” He tries to reach for the phone.

“Oh, no, no!” She moves the phone away. “That was me just messing around, you don’t need to see that.”

“What if I want to see it?”

“Yeah, no,” she scoffs. “Not going to happen.”

Holding her tighter around the waist, the two wrestle as Killian attempts to reach for her phone while she squeals with laughter. He manages to brush his fingers against the phone twice, but each time, she’s able to move it away at the last second and he’s so distracted by what they are doing, he doesn’t realize they are toppling over until her right thigh is pressed against his hip and his head is in the crook of her neck. They are both still laughing and he feels a slight twinge in his knee from where it slammed onto the deck, but he can’t seem to care.

“Are you okay?” Emma asks on a chuckle, her left hand moving to his side.

Killian tries to catch his breath as he nods. “Aye. Are you?”

He pushes himself up just enough so that he’s able to look down at her and what he sees nearly takes his breath away. Her cheeks are rosy, her eyes are shining, and her smile is bright. She looks more beautiful than he’s ever seen and when her gaze moves to his lips, it’s unconsciously that his tongue pokes out to wet them.

The urge to kiss her has never been stronger, and were it any other time, he’d be able to control his desires, but the way she’s looking at him…

Killian lifts left hand to her face, his fingers brushing over her jaw until he’s pinching her chin between his thumb and his finger. Her breath hitches when their eyes connect, and he looks back and forth between hers, the silent question hanging in the air between them. The feel of her fingers tightening on his side and the way she lifts her head ever so slightly is the only answer he needs. Her breath is warm on his lips, and he can smell the traces of hot chocolate she drank—it makes his mouth water because he has no doubt the sweet drink will taste much finer coming from her mouth than straight from the source. With his heart thundering, his eyes close as her lips brush against—

The sound of ringing makes them both jump and when Killian pulls back, he sees Emma’s brows pinched together. The ringing happens again and they both look to the phone in her hand to find it lighting up, the name _Big Sister_ flashing across the screen along with a picture of Emma and a raven haired woman.

With the phone still ringing, and the mood effectively ruined, Killian pushes himself up onto his knees and pulls Emma along with him.

“I must have service now that we are closer to town,” she mumbles. Blinking up at him, she motions to the phone with a frown. “I’m sorry, I have to…”

“Aye, of course.”

He watches as Emma swipes across the screen and brings it up to her ear.

“Mary Margaret?” She flinches, pulling the phone away from her ear and Killian can just hear the woman’s high pitched voice on the other end. To distract himself, he pulls his beanie from his head and pulls his hood up, the cave of fabric making him feel somehow less exposed.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine, I’m sorry… No, of course not, I haven’t had service… Actually, I’m—wait, _what_?!”

His head snaps over at the concern in her voice and his body goes on high alert.

“When?! Is he okay?” When she looks up at him, he can clearly see the panic in her eyes while she lifts her mouth away from her phone to speak to him. “David was hurt, he’s in the hospital.”

“What?!” Killian gasps. “Is he alright?”

Emma shrugs, her frown deepening as she brings the phone back to her mouth. “What did the doctor say?”

Pushing himself up, he offers his hand for her to follow and watches helplessly as she walks to the edge of the boat.

“Is that normal?” Killian walks up to her, placing what he hopes to be a comforting arm around her waist and is mildly surprised when she sinks her weight into him. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to… it’s not that easy… Mar, of course I do… I don’t know if I’ll have service…”

She drops her head onto his chest and he rubs a reassuring hand up and down her back as he looks across to the town. There’s ships in every slip at the docks save one, and his entire body goes stiff. It wouldn’t be impossible and it would take the same amount of time to sail there as it would to sail back to the house.

Squeezing his eyes shut for a brief second, he swallows back his fear. “You have to go to him.”

Emma’s head snaps up to him.

“Mar, hold on a second.” She places the phone against her chest. “What do you mean?”

“We can sail up to the docks. There’s an open slip, wouldn’t be any trouble.”

Her eyes search his for what he assumes is clarification, and when he gives a small nod, she breathes out a sigh of relief before bringing the phone back up to her ear. “Okay, Mar, I’ll be right there… which hospital… I’ll explain later.”

Killian’s up at the helm, his hands on the wheel when Emma gets off the phone. He wants to comfort her, hold her in his arms, but he must steer the boat and—

“Swan!” He calls out when he sees her eyes squeeze shut. She looks back to him through her eyelashes and he can see the vulnerability written on her face. “Come up here with me, love.”

As she gets closer, he can see the panic attack that’s threatened to edge over and he pulls her to him. Placing her between his body and the wheel, he quickly presses his lips to the back of her head. “He’s going to be alright, love. Just breathe,” he murmurs. There’s a shuddering breath before her fingers wrap around the spokes of the wheel. “That’s it. Breathe. Just mimic the movement of my chest.”

She falls back against him, and he makes sure to breathe in and out evenly as he steers the ship toward the shore. It’s only a few seconds before he hears her begin to hum and he thinks everything is going to be okay.

* * *

They pull into the slip ten minutes later, and it’s not until Killian’s releasing the gangplank that Emma starts to talk. “Mary Margaret said they are at Storybrooke General. I’m not really sure where that is, but, uh, I’m sure we can find someone who can tell us.”

Her words make him go stiff and it takes her calling out his name to realize he’s stopped moving altogether. She wants him to go with her… to the hospital… where there are other people around.

“I mean, he’s the deputy, someone has to—”

“I… I can’t go with you, Emma.”

She does little to hide her surprise, a laugh even bubbling out of her, and he frowns at her question. “What do you mean?”

Feeling the slow crawl of his own panic attack approaching, he clears his throat and briefly looks down at his feet. Besides her, Liam, and Graham, he hasn’t been around another living soul for three years… how can he properly explain that even being docked so close to Storybrooke is giving him anxiety? “I just can’t,” he mumbles, his fists clenching at his sides. “You go on though.”

“Oh… okay.” He winces at the underlying hurt in her tone and licks his bottom lip. “Um, well, t-thank you.”

His eyes snap up to her and his stomach drops. He hadn’t realized… this is it… this is goodbye.

She looks over her shoulder toward the town. “It was my pleasure, Swan,” he mumbles.

When she turns back to him, there’s a look on her face he can’t quite explain before she moves to give him a hug. Closing his eyes, he fights back his tears as he inhales the scent of her one final time.

“I’ll see you when I come to get my car?”

He forces a smile and gives a quick nod, though he knows it’s a lie. It’s true she must come back to the house to retrieve her belongings, however, he will _not_ be there when she does, because it’s taking all his strength to say goodbye to her now. He knows there’s no possible way he’d be able to do it a second time.

“Aye, of course.” Her brow furrows, but before she can say anything, he motions behind her. “You should go, love. Give David my best.”

It’s wishful thinking that the look on her face is one that’s torn, though the way she holds onto his hand until the last possible moment does give him pause. If she were to ask him to go with her, he knows in that moment, he would, but she doesn’t and when she turns to run down the dock, it’s as if his heart has been ripped from his chest. It takes him a few minutes to get the boat ready to cast off again, and then he sees their abandoned picnic.

Killian remembers what it felt like when he woke to find out that Liam left in the middle of the night. He was hurt, he was angry, and he wished that it was all a dream.

He remembers what it felt like when he realized his father wasn’t coming back to America. He was hurt, he was angry, and he wished that it was all a dream.

He knows what it feels like to watch Emma leave. He’s not hurt, he’s not angry, and he doesn’t wish it was all a dream, because she deserves so much better than him.

She deserves someone who can make her smile, who can make her laugh… who can take her out… she deserves someone who can love her.

And he does. Bloody hell, he does… and she doesn’t know.

_“Tell her… she deserves to know.”_

Clenching his jaw, Killian closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before he’s jumping over the side of the boat and onto the deck. He has no bloody clue where he’s going and when he reaches the main street, he curses under his breath. Looking to the left then the right, he can feel a growl bubbling the back of his throat and he jogs up to a man on a ladder to ask him for directions.

Luckily, the man tells him the hospital _is_ in walking distance, and he rushes off with a thank you called over his shoulder. There aren’t many people on the street, though it seems the few that are, are intent on walking right in front of him. Apologizing to those he bumps into due to slipping in the snow, he continues on, ignoring the gasps of horror and those that stop to stare. Killian just about sobs in relief when he sees the hospital ahead.

There’s a security guard behind a desk when he enters the emergency room, and a few people in the lounge area, but when he doesn’t see Emma anywhere, he rushes to the main desk. “What room is Deputy Nolan in?”

The woman behind the counter lets out a squeak and her eyes go wide. Killian clenches his jaw as she fumbles over her words, and he’s just about to slam his fist down in frustration when he hears his name being called.

“Killian?”

His head snaps to the left to find Graham standing a few feet away with his brows furrowed and Killian pushes away from the counter. “Graham.”

“What are you…” The Sheriff’s eyes begin to move frantically around the lounge before he gasps. “Is it Liam?” Before he can answer, Graham shakes his head and mumbles. “No, you brought Emma, that’s right.”

“Aye, Emma…”

Graham opens his mouth to respond only to stop when there’s a disgruntled noise from next to them and Killian keeps his eyes forward trying to ignore the way the small man is staring at him. “Don’t you have something better to do, Leroy?” Graham growls—his Irish accent seeming to grow thicker the angrier he gets—before he steps forward and shoves the small man by his shoulder. “Get to it!”

The Sheriff motions to the hall and Killian’s all too happy to move away from the prying gaze of some of Storybrooke’s residents while he fixes his hood.

“Have you seen her?” Killian asks after Graham rounds the corner.

Graham places his hands on his hips and nods.

“She was here—” Killian’s eyes light up, “—but you just missed her.”

“Where did she go?”

He watches as Graham reaches up to scratch his beard and shrugs, “I don’t know. Her boyfriend asked if they could talk and—” Killian’s heart drops into his stomach, “—what?”

“Was it Neal?”

“Yeah, I think that’s what Mary Margaret said his name was.” An overwhelming sense of dread washes over him and his entire body goes stiff. “Killian, what is it?”

“We need to find them… _now_.” Graham’s eyes widen and Killian steps closer. “Which way did they go?”

* * *

* * *

“I’ll see you when I come to get my car?”

The smile and nod Killian gives her is forced, and when he agrees, she knows he’s lying before the words are off his tongue.

“You should go, love.” There’s another forced smile as his fingers tighten around hers. “Give David my best.”

Emma doesn’t want to go, not without him, because for some reason, she feels like if she leaves now, she’s never going to see him again, and that scares her. He’s come to mean so much to her, and it’s not something she wants to have disappear just because she’s not staying in the same house as him anymore.

But she can’t think about that, she can’t think about any of it, David is in the hospital and she needs to make sure he’s okay. So, with a lump in the back of her throat, she backs away from Killian and runs into town.

The main street is familiar, and when she sees the clocktower to her left, she’s pretty sure the street next to it is the one that leads to her brother’s loft, but she’s still not sure which way the hospital is. Ripping her beanie off her head with a frustrated huff, she’s just about to find someone to ask where the hospital is when she spots the police cruiser driving up the street.

Without thinking, Emma runs out into the middle of the street, almost slipping on the snow as she waves her arms around.

“Graham!”

She’s going to have to remind herself to tease him for his driving later, because it’s not like the movies where she runs out and he slams on his breaks. Instead, he’s driving at an extremely slow speed—it’s almost comical how slow he’s driving—which gives him enough time to stop. She rushes over to the passenger side and rips the door open before he can get out.

“Emma? What the hell?”

“Can you take me to the hospital to see David?”

“How did you _get_ here?”

“Graham, please!” She can tell he wants answers, but the second he puts the cruiser back into drive, she starts firing away with her questions. “Is David okay? Have you seen him? Mary Margaret wouldn’t tell me over the phone.”

He holds up his hand with a small nod. “Emma, he’s fine, I was on my way to go see him when you jumped in front of my car.”

“What happened?” He looks to her from the corner of his eye and she has to bite back a curse. “Graham!”

“He was in a car accident.” Her eyes go wide and the feel of her heart pounding hard in her chest makes her dizzy. “A minor one—” A large gush of air passses her lips and her shoulders sag in relief, “—he has a broken leg and a cracked rib, but other than that he’s alright.” She watches as Graham runs a hand through his shaggy hair before he turns the wheel. “His truck hit a patch of black ice last night and he crashed into a tree.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she reaches up to rub the charm on her necklace between her fingers, and takes a deep breath. Why did it have to be a car accident? Why did he have to get hurt at all? Emma opens her eyes with her chin pressed to her chest and she gets a flash of the zipper on the hoodie she’s wearing. Her stomach knots as she comes to terms with how much she misses Killian. If he were there, he’d hold her hand, or rub a hand down her back while he whispered words of comfort. He’d know what just to say to make her feel alright, or what not to, because he understood her better than anyone… but he let her go knowing what was going on and she can’t help but think about how easy it seemed for him.

“Emma...” She lifts her head to find Graham looking at her, then back to the road, then back to her again. “How did you get here so fast?”

With a sigh, she rests her head back on the headrest. “I’ve been here since January.”

“I’m sorry, what’s that now?”

She winces because she knows he’s going to have more questions, but they are pulling into the hospital parking lot and she just doesn’t have the time to explain it to him. “I came here in January, the day of the first snow storm and drove my bug into a snowbank. When I got a flat, I couldn’t drive it so—” she takes a deep breath, “—Killian and Liam let me stay with them until the snow let up.”

The way Graham’s head snaps over to her is almost comical.

“ _What_?”

“I’ve been staying with your boyfriend and his brother since January.”

Jumping out of the car as soon as he parks, Emma rushes into the hospital with Graham hot on her tail. She goes to stop at the desk to ask which room her brother is in, when Graham grasps her right arm and motions to the hall.

“This way… you were with Liam?” His voice is high as he leads her down a narrow hallway. “Is he the one who brought you here?”

“No, uh, it was Killian.”

Graham stops outside of a closed door and holds his hand up.

“Killian left the house?!”

She sighs as she tries to reign in her frustration. It’s not his fault that he has so many questions, but she just can’t— the door swings open and they both look over to see Mary Margaret standing there in a baby blue dress.

“Emma?!” Her sister-in-law has her wrapped in her arms before she can blink. “Oh, thank god! It’s so good to see you!” She pulls back, but doesn’t let go of Emma’s hands. “Were you able to find parking, okay?”

“Uh, wha—“

There’s a ringing sound and before Emma can check to see if it’s her own, Graham gives a low curse and steps back. “Excuse me, ladies.” She doesn’t miss the pointed look he gives her before he walks off. He wants to talk more about where she was staying and it makes her stomach flip.

_Fuck, I really miss Killian._

Shaking her head, she attempts to look over Mary Margaret’s shoulder. “Is David in there? Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” she assures, her hands giving Emma’s a little squeeze. “A broken leg and a cracked rib. He’s asleep right now, which is a good thing because he’s been in a terrible mood since he woke up this morning and the doctor told him his leg was broken.”

Feeling herself nearly collapse with relief, she brushes a piece of hair away from her face. “Can I see him?”

Mary Margaret springs into movement at her words. “Of course you can! He’s going to be so happy when he wakes up to find you here. Neal’s in there now while I run to the cafeteria to get something to drink, do you want anything?”

“No, I’m fi—” Emma stops once what her sister-in-law said hits her and her head snaps back. “What did you say?”

“Hey, babe.” Her blood runs cold as Neal appears behind Mary Margaret with a sickly sweet and extremely _fake_ smile on his face. “Did you find parking okay?”

It’s just like how her nightmares use to start, with Neal showing up in a place she thought she was safe. When she first left, she dreamt that he found her at the Jones estate, and she had nowhere to run. As time went on, her nightmares changed to Killian being there with her when Neal showed and it brought her comfort, until eventually they went away.

Now, Neal’s standing before her, and she’s alone.

_How the hell did he even get here?_

With her brows furrowed, she moves to take a step back when he moves with her. The feel of something poking into her makes her gasp and he steps in to whisper in her ear. “Play along, or I’ll shoot everyone here, starting with your brother.”

Clenching her jaw, she’s just barely able to hold back her gag when he kisses her cheek.

“I found parking fine.”

Mary Margaret offers again to grab them something, but they refuse and when she turns to leave, the wide smile Neal had on his face is gone as he turns to look at her.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

* * *

Neal takes her to the parking garage and as soon as the door closes, he steps up into her face. “Where is it?”

Shoving him away from her, Emma hisses. “Where’s _what_? And how the hell did you get here? The town is closed down!”

“I’ve been driving to that fucking main road every week for three months, imagine my surprise when I found it finally open last night. Now, where is it?!”

His voice echoes off the walls and she growls. “Where is what?!” He reaches into his pocket and Emma’s hands shoot up when she sees the gun he’s now pointing at her. “Neal…”

“You know, when I woke up that morning to find you gone, I thought it was because you were doing laundry.” She swallows the lump in her throat and he chuckles. “I thought how perfect it was, because I had planned on leaving that morning anyway, and with you gone, I didn’t have to come up with some lame ass excuse that it wasn’t working out. I could just leave.”

She hates that his words give her heart a quick stab of pain, because while she’s not anymore, she was, in some way, in love with him. But the way he’s speaking now sounds like he never felt the same way.

“Then why are you here?”

“Because you have something of mine,” he spits, the gun still held up and pointed at her. “I’d like it back.” Her brow furrows and he shakes his head. “I know you didn’t tell your brother or sister-in-law about them or else I wouldn’t have been greeted the way I was. Now, where _is it_?!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she yells, her voice now the one bouncing off the walls.

Neal runs a hand through his hair with a growl before he holds the gun higher. “The Bug, Emma! I put the watches in your car and you took it with you!”

With eyes wide, she says, “The Bug isn’t here, Neal.” He shakes his head and she continues, “I’m serious! I crashed it into a snowbank just outside of town, it’s been there since January.”

“You’re lying!” He yells, stepping closer to her, and she knows that she has to defuse the situation.

“Emma?”

Both she and Neal look to the right, and what she sees makes her eyes go wide, because there’s no way that it can be… he left… left her…

“Killian?”

He’s dressed the same as he was earlier—black jeans, black leather jacket, with a dark gray zip up hoodie over his Henley—but in that moment, she thinks he’s never looked more beautiful. An overwhelming sense of happiness washes over her as he steps more into the light and she gets a feeling that everything is going to be alr—

“What the fuck is wrong with your face?” Neal cries out, his voice dripping with disgust.

“There’s nothing wrong with his face!” she snaps, her anger overtaking her as she moves to shove him, but stops when he holds the gun back up.

“No!” Killian calls out, rushing forward only to stop when Neal turns the gun on him.

Panic begins to rise in her and all she can think of is how she needs to get Neal’s attention away from Killian and back on her.

“Neal, leave him alone, please,” she pleads. “He has nothing to do with this.”

“Emma…”

Ignoring Killian’s voice, she continues, “I’ll take you to my car, I promise.”

She thinks of all the counter moves that she can make, all the self defense techniques she’s learned over the years, but every single one of them is useless. Doing any of them risks the gun going off and with Killian in his line of sight, she can’t take that chance.

“No!” Killian growls again. “She’s not going anywhere with you!”

“Oh, and you think _you’re_ going to stop me, freak?”

“He’s not a freak!” Emma hisses.

It all happens so fast, one second Neal’s screaming at her, the next she hears Killian yell something as he jumps in front of her and then there’s a bang. The way Killian’s body jerks is something she’ll never forget, and as he falls to the ground, it’s like time freezes. There’s another bang and she waits for the pain, only it doesn’t come. Looking up, she watches as Neal drops his gun and moves to grasp his now bleeding arm. He slowly sinks to the ground to reveal Graham standing there with a smoking gun.

“Emma?”

She ignores Graham and rushes forward, kneeling down next to Killian. His shoulders are jerking and when she lifts him into her arms, he gives a groan.

“Killian? Can you hear me?”

“Are… you...” He coughs, his whole body shaking as he licks his lips. “Are you a-alright?”

With a watery chuckle, she asks, “You’re the one that’s been shot and you’re asking me if I’m alright?” He attempts to respond, but his breath is gasping and she stops him. “Shh, let me look.” She pushes his jacket and hoodie aside to find his side gushing blood. Pressing her hand there, she winces at his loud cry and mumbles, “I’m sorry...” His eyes squeeze shut and she chokes out a sob, “You came back… I can’t believe you came back.”

“I h-had to,” he stutters while his fingers tighten on the lapels of her jacket. “I couldn’t…” He takes a deep breath and looks up at her. “I couldn’t just let y-you go.”

“You couldn’t?”

Killian’s shoulders continue to jerk and he mumbles, “I w-wanted to tell you…”

“Tell me later.” When he shakes his head, she pulls him closer. “No, you’re going to be fine.” Her head shoots up to find Graham handcuffing a passed out Neal with his eyes on them—eyes that are full of tears. “Graham, go get someone, tell them they need to—why are you just sitting there?”

Graham tilts his head, a frown pulling at his lips and her heart drops into her stomach. He’s not going because there’s nothing they can do, Killian has been shot in the gut…

The feel of something brushing against her cheek snaps her back to reality, and when she looks down, she sees Killian’s hand extended toward her. She feels something wet and she about gags because she thinks it’s his blood, only when he pulls his hand back, the wetness is clear.

She’s crying.

“It’s okay… Emma,” he gasps, his body still jerking. “It’s alright.”

“Oh God!” She sobs as her arms tighten around him.

Killian raises his hand back to her face to cup her a jaw with a small smile on his face. “You… gave me peace.”

Her eyes squeeze shut and she lifts her hand to cover his. She curses herself for never telling him how she really felt, for taking too long to realize—his hand grows slack and when she opens her eyes, she sees his head fall back and she begins to panic.

“No, Killian, please! Killian!” His eyes roll into the back of his head and the only sound she hears is the pounding of her own heart. “Killian, please! Come back to me, please!” Letting go of his wound, she lifts her blood covered hand to tilt his face toward her and a strangled sob falls past her lips.

He’s gone.

Shaking him, she falls back onto her knees and begins to rock. In the distance, she can hear the chime of the clock tower and she can’t help but think how an hour earlier, they were together and happy.

_And you still didn’t say anything._

Holding back another sob, she moves down and presses a soft kiss to his forehead after whispering, “I love you.”

Emma doesn’t know how much time passes, but when she hears Graham say her name, she looks up and her eyes go wide. There’s what looks to be black smoke coming from Killian’s gunshot wound and her brow furrows. The smoke continues to rise and she pulls back a little to watch.

“Emma, back away.” Graham murmurs and she shakes her head.

“What’s happening?” She hears rustling and when Graham puts his arms underneath hers to pull her away, she fights against him. “No, Graham! What’s wrong with him?”

He pulls her back and when she hears the third chime in the distance, the black smoke explodes from Killian like a volcano, making her and Graham tumble backwards. The smoke swirls around him, rolling his body onto his stomach and before she can move, a burst of white light blinds her.

Graham has his body shielding hers and they stay that way for a moment until there’s a noise from in front of them. Lightly pushing Graham away, Emma’s eyes go wide as Killian moves. His body jerks while a cough expels from his lungs and she watches as he moves up onto his knees, which causes her to jerk back, because the person that’s kneeling before them is _not_ Killian.

He has dark hair that falls over his forehead and his skin is clear of scars and tattoos, but he’s wearing the same clothes as Killian. Looking down at her left hand, she finds it free of blood and her heart slams harder in her chest.

“Swan?”

Her head snaps up at the use of her nickname and she nearly barks at him. How _dare_ he call her that… only Killian is allowed to call her that! The man continues to look at her, his eyes pleading as he moves to stand. She follows his movements, her brows pinched together in hesitance before she steps closer. Her eyes move over him, examining every inch until she’s standing before him. The jacket he’s wearing is Killian’s, along with the necklace, and when she looks up, she finds the same brilliant blue eyes she fell in love with.

“Killian?” His smile is _dazzling_ and it makes her stomach flutter with recognition. She feels her eyes water and a breathless giggle passes her lips as he places his hands on her face, his thumbs brushing softly against the swell of her cheeks while his teary eyes move back and forth between hers.

Lifting her hands, she wraps her fingers around his wrists, and smiles up at him. Killian breathes out a low chuckle, before his gaze moves to her lips. Allowing him to tilt her head back, Emma can’t help but melt into him when he kisses her after mumbling against her lips,

“I love you, too.”


	10. All You Need Is Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is it. Where as the time gone?! Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the love and support you've shown this story, you never cease to blow me away. 
> 
> This story wouldn't be what it is without the help from Initial and Idris. You ladies helped me so much, thank you.
> 
> To CocoHook38, your art brought this story to life, thank you!
> 
> To every single person involved in the Captain Swan Big Bang, it's been an amazing journey and I'm honored to have made it with you! <3

**April – 2018**

Killian checks around his room one final time to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything before he zips up his bag and walks over to his closet. Opening the door, he moves to grab one of his jackets when the sight of black leather catches his eye. With a deep breath, he runs his hand down the leather until he feels the hole and reaches into the pocket to pull out the pocket watch.

He leans his shoulder against the wall and holds it up. Despite having been cursed for three years, he’s still having trouble coming to terms with the fact that the bullet that was inside of him is now lodged into the pocket watch that was the lifeline of his curse. Unfortunately, he remembers exactly how it felt to have that bullet rip through his skin and he also remembers what it felt like when the magic pushed it back out along with the curse, and there’s only one word to describe it… excruciating.

Though, given the choice, he’d take a painful magical healing over a painless magical curse any day.

Pressing his lips together, he chooses another jacket and throws it over his shoulders before grabbing his bag and walking out. He can hear voices as soon as hits the bottom of the stairs and he puts his bag by the front door next to the one he placed there earlier before heading down the hall. Entering the kitchen, the right side of his lips tug up when he sees his brother sitting at the table and Graham next to him, leaning down to give him a kiss.

“Good morning.”

When they turn to him, their matching looks of happiness makes Killian silently chuckle, but it also makes his stomach knot. He hasn’t seen Emma since the night his curse was broken—he had insisted that she stay with her brother while he went back to his own to explain—not since they made the plan for Graham to bring him back in a few days. At the time, he was excited, but later when he had gone to bed that night, he’d felt nothing but dread.

What if she had changed her mind about them? What if she no longer wished to see him?

He spoke of his feelings to Liam and Graham, but all he got in return was his brother smacking him upside his head and Graham shoving a mirror in his face. The curse hadn’t been broken just for her to decide she no longer wished to be with him… they were right, he was being ridiculous.

Now, the anticipation to see her again is making him nearly shake with excitement.

_Is this how Liam feels all the time?_

“Would you like some coffee?” Graham asks as he fills Liam’s cup before sitting down.

“No, I’m alright. I just wanted to tell you that I’m going into town.”

Liam’s brow furrows while Graham tilts his head.

“I’m sorry, Killian, I didn’t know you wanted to leave so early. I’ll get—”

He holds his hand to stop Graham and shakes his head. “It’s alright, you can stay here. You’ve taken the watches out of the back of Emma’s car, correct?”

“Yeah, I took them back with me that night when I went to go get some clothes.”

“I was just making sure because I replaced her flat tire last night with the one you brought. I’m going to take her car into town.”

Graham’s eyebrows raise, but it’s Liam that asks. “Are you sure about that?”

“The snow’s cleared up enough,” Killian responds as he takes a water bottle out of the fridge. “Her car should do just fine.”

“Aye, her car should, but what of you? It’s a manual transmission and you haven’t driven in three years, little brother.”

Rolling his eyes, he grumbles in response. “Younger, and I know how to drive.”

“We are also in America where they drive on the opposite side.” Killian nearly groans while Liam moves to stand. “Just allow me to get dressed and—”

“Liam,” Graham cuts in, placing his hand on his boyfriend’s arm to stop him. “Remember what we talked about—” Killian’s head tilts. “—he’ll be fine.”

His brother looks torn, and Killian offers him a small smile. He knows that his brother is having a hard time letting go. When he merely _mentioned_ that he planned on going back to Storybrooke, all the blood in Liam’s face drained. It wasn’t until Graham assured him that Neal would be handcuffed to his hospital bed until he was well enough to be moved to the town jail that Liam finally seemed to warm up to it.

Apparently he’s rethought his decision.

“What if something happens?” Liam counters and Killian makes his way over to him. “How is he to call? We really must get landlines out here. He won’t even be able to call to let us know he’s arrived safely! Perhaps we should go to your place tonight? Just in case—”

Killian leans down to press a kiss to his brother’s forehead.

“Enjoy the empty house, brother.” Liam opens his mouth while Killian pats Graham on the shoulder. “If he insists on coming into town, call Emma’s cell.”

* * *

So, Liam may have been a _little_ correct in assuming that Killian would have trouble driving. It takes him a few minutes to get the feel of the Bug’s shifter, and when he does, he unconsciously drifts over onto the other side of the road— _despite_ it being clear. Luckily, he gets the hang of it just as he gets into town and though he takes a wrong turn, he eventually finds the Nolan’s’ loft and parks out front. It’s early—just after eight—but he and Emma never said a specific time, and though she’s probably sleeping, he couldn’t wait a moment longer.

He misses her.

Pulling the bag out of the back that belongs to Emma, Killian stares at the other and bites the inside of his cheek. Again, they never spoke about how long he would stay, or how long _she_ would stay… but he just missed her and assumed… he shakes his head and grabs his bag, as well. They love each other, confirmed it by breaking a magical curse and all, there’s no reason he needs to doubt his decision of wanting to stay with her.

When he gets to the top of steps, he takes a deep breath and lifts his hand to knock on the door. He thinks he hears the clatter of something before the door is whipped open. Her blonde hair is pushed back away from her face, her cheeks are flushed, and she has on a loose-fitting t-shirt along with a pair of shorts and slippers.

The sight of her makes his heart flutter and the only thing he can think to do is whisper, “Hi.”

“Hi,” she breathes out with a smile that’s almost blinding.

Before he can say anything else, Emma’s stepping forward and he drops the bags just in time to catch her. Closing his eyes, he lifts her off the ground while she wraps her arms around his shoulders and he breathes in her scent.

“I’m so glad you came early,” her voice is muffled by his shoulder. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, love.”

They stay wrapped in each other’s arms for another moment before he hears her ask. “Did you bring a bag of your stuff?”

Chuckling, he nods. “Aye.”

Emma’s arms loosen, and though it’s not something he wishes to do, he lets her go as she mumbles. “Good, because I don’t think you’ll fit in my clothes like I did yours.”

“Probably not.”

After he places their bags down and takes his jacket off, Emma pulls him into the living room and they sit on the couch. She threads their fingers together and he’s still trying to convince himself this all isn’t some sort of dream, because it seems to be too good to be true.

“We really need to get you a cell phone.”

“Oh?”

He watches as she turns to him, bringing her left leg up onto the couch before she places their hands in her lap.

“There were so many things I wanted to talk to you about over the last few days… but I knew there was no way to reach you. Then I remembered what Liam does for Graham and well…” She motions to the coffee table and what he sees makes his throat tighten. There are multiple pieces of paper scattered, all filled with what appears to be notes with different pens lying about. Of course, there were things he’d wanted to tell her about, too, but to know that she’s gone to this length in only three days—

Killian pushes himself forward without thinking, fusing her lips to his, and when she falls back with a squeal, he follows. It’s only when he feels her hands on the bare skin of his lower back, that he finally pulls away and tries to catch his breath.

Pressing his forehead against hers, he pants. “Apologies, love, I—”

He’s cut off by Emma yanking him back down on top of her.

“No more talking.”

His breath hitches right before she pushes her tongue into his mouth and it’s as if all sense seems to fly out the window. Killian’s thought of being with Emma, of course, even dreamed of it, and he’s told himself that if he were ever lucky enough to be with her, he’d take his time, worship her the way she deserves, but then she sucks on his pulse point and he forgets everything—what day it is, where he’s at, hell even his own name—everything but the deep need to push himself inside of her. It’s just as he places his hand on her knee to hitch her leg around his waist that they are interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone.

He drops his forehead to her collarbone and she groans. “Forget it, none of us should have cell phones.”

Pulling her up with him, he sits back and wills himself to calm down as she answers her phone. From context he assumes it’s her sister-in-law and though the conversation is brief, when she gets off the phone, there’s a scowl on her face.

“Everything alright, love?”

“David’s requested Granny’s for breakfast and they asked if I could bring it to him.” With a sigh, she twists until she’s sitting right on the couch and says, “You can stay here if you want… you don’t have—”

Rolling his eyes, he pushes himself up and tugs her with him after cutting her off. “Let’s go get your brother breakfast. Perhaps this time he won’t frown at me so much.” She winces, and he reaches up to tap her chin. “I’m jesting, love, it’s fine.”

“Well, to be fair, it was probably a little confusing. I mean, he’s just learned that his sister came here three months ago but couldn’t get to him because of the snow, then when she finally _could_ see him, her ex showed up toting a gun and to top it off, she’s apparently together with his boss’s boyfriend’s younger brother.” She takes a deep breath and nods. “I can see why he would frown.”

Killian blinks. “Are we?”

“Are we what?”

He raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Together?”

Her cheeks turn a shade darker, and though she’s smiling, she rolls her eyes and walks forward.

“I’m going to get changed, I’ll be down in a minute.”  

* * *

Killian watches Emma rub lotion into her hands while she stares off into space for two straight minutes before he asks, “You alright, love?”

She blinks at him, his voice obviously snapping her out of whatever thoughts she was lost in before she nods. “Yeah, uh, I mean, yeah. Still a bit shocked, I think.” He raises his brow and a smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “I’m going to be an Aunt.”

“I remember,” he chuckles softly, “your sister-in-law all but screamed it to us as soon as we walked into the hospital room.” She forces a smile and he tilts his head. “It’s happy news, is it not?”

“Yes, of course,” she assures, her mind still seeming to be elsewhere. “It’s just… a _baby_. There’s going to be a baby.” Emma blows out a breath and shakes her head before she looks around. “They’re going to have to baby proof the _shit_ out of this loft.” A fully belly laugh falls past his lips and she frowns again. “Seriously, I just tripped up those steps, can you imagine a baby trying to climb them?”

“Well,” he starts as he moves to wrap his arms around her, “your brother will just have to make sure you’re there so he can show the babe what _not_ to do.” She smacks him in the chest and he coughs out a laugh. “They have plenty of time to think of that, Swan, and if the way Mary Margaret rattled off a list of things she needed to make your stay here comfortable is any indication of how she’ll be as a mother, I think there won’t be a problem.”

Emma makes a noise in agreement and Killian presses a light kiss to her temple before he walks back over to her bed.

“Oh!” He hears from behind him as he pulls the covers back. “I forgot, I got you something.”

Turning toward her again, he watches as she sways back and forth with her hands hidden behind her and it’s not until he raises his brows that she giggles and hands him the gift… a new book of crossword puzzles.

“Brilliant,” he chuckles as he sits down onto her bed, his fingers brushing over the cover before he looks up to her with a smirk. “Though, I wouldn’t necessarily call it a _present_ since you were the one that filled my last one.” Emma playfully swats at him while she sits, and he laughs, “I’m jesting, love. Thank you. Now we can do this before bed. But I do have one request.”

“What’s that?”

“You have to draw a swa—” He flips the cover open and laughs when he sees the swan drawn in the corner. “—you’re bloody amazing. Thank you.”

Leaning in, he gives her a soft kiss and when she hums, he can’t help but smile.

“You know,” she starts low as he pulls back, her eyes locked on his lips. “If it wasn’t your eyes that told me it was you, it would have been your smile.” He tilts his head in question and she lifts her hand to brush her fingers over his lips. “I’d know it anywhere.”

“That’s because you make me smile.”

He thinks he sees her eyes shine before she moves forward. Her kiss is soft while she removes the book from his hands before reaching up to cup his face. There’s another hum, and before he can wrap his arms around her, she pulls back and crosses her arms in front of her. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he reaches behind him to grab the back of his Henley before he tugs it up over his head. Her bra is straight black, perhaps cotton, and its simple elegance makes his mouth water, but before he can attempt to touch it, she leans forward and ducks her head. His brow furrows until he feels her lips press softly on the inside of his forearm.

While the rest of the scars and vines vanished once the curse was broken, the triad remained. He assumes it was left as a reminder, though he doesn’t see himself contacting Gold anytime soon to ask, and he can’t seem to find it in himself to care. Placing his hand under her ear, Killian lifts Emma back to him and slides his lips onto hers.

“I love you.”

She smiles against his lips before mumbling, “I love you, too.”

They fall back onto the bed, their lips never parting, and a deep groan escapes the back of his throat when she straddles him. Taking his time to run his hands down her back—her skin is so bloody soft—he tries to memorize the curves of her spine before he wraps his arms around her to pull her even closer. The feel of her breasts against his chest along with the way she’s holding his head in place while she kisses him makes him dizzy and when she grinds down onto him, he can’t help the way his entire body shudders.

“Love...” he pulls back with a gasp, his head dropping back onto the pillow and it makes Emma moan before she begins to kiss down his neck. Another stuttering breath passes his lips and he squeezes his eyes shut while his fingers dig into her sides. “Love… wait a moment.”

He nearly whimpers as her lips leave his skin and when she pushes herself up—her hair creating a curtain around them—he sees that her pupils are dilated and the way she’s panting makes him even harder that he already is.

“What’s wrong?”

The concern in her voice makes him smile, and he takes a deep breath. “Nothing, I… there’s nothing wrong, I assure you.” Her brow is still furrowed so he reaches to cup the right sight of her face, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “I want to do this… more than anything… it’s just…” The words get stuck in the back of his throat and he curses.

He wants to tell her, wants her to understand, and of course she will, because she’s Emma and she’s always understood, but he can’t help the embarrassment he feels over it.

“Do you want to stop?”

Her question makes him chuckle and he shakes his head after pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“No, darling. I want this… want _you_. It’s just… it’s been… it’s been a while.” He finally admits in a low voice and when her eyes widen in realization, he shrugs, sheepishly. “And I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Her thumbs rub against the swells of his cheeks as she shakes her head. “You can’t disappoint me…” He tilts his head in doubt and she gives a saucy smirk. “We have all night.”

His eyebrow raises. “I do love a challenge.”

She giggles against his lips and he pulls her flush against him again, their skin rubbing against one another’s while his right hand moves down to palm her perfect ass. He wants to flip them over, wants to take control and kiss every inch of her skin softly and slowly, but the second she slides her center across his cock again, he decides control is overrated. Keeping his right arm wrapped around her waist, he reaches up with his left hand and slowly pulls the strap of her bra down while he begins to trail kisses down her neck. His lips move down, his tongue poking out to trace her collar bone until he’s pressing open mouthed kisses to the swell of her right breast.

“Killian,” she whimpers, her hips pushing even harder down onto his cock. “You—ah!”

Moving her bra cup away, he palms her breast and takes her nipple into his mouth. The feel of her fingers pulling at his hair while she also pushes his head closer to her makes him groan and he can’t help but move his hand back down to her ass again. Only this time, when he pulls her against him, he thrusts up.

_Gods_ , he could come undone just like this, but he keeps his mind occupied with her, studying each sound that falls past her lips and committing it to memory. He feels her gently yank at his hair, and he allows her nipple to fall from his mouth before he looks up only to have her lips on his again.

“Fuck,” she hisses after moving back only slightly while her hips circle in his lap. “I don’t think you’re going have to worry about being the fast one here.”

His lips drag across her cheek as he continues to thrust up against her.

“I think you have far too much faith in me, love.”

Her hands slowly move down from his hair until she places them on either side of his head to push herself up.

“Not possible.”

He smiles wide only to have it disappear when she moves off of him and the bed. Leaning up on his elbows, he starts, “Swan, what—”

She pulls open her dresser drawer and pulls out a box.

“I bought these, too.” The box lands on his chest after she tosses it and he smirks when he sees it’s a box of condoms. “Just in case.”

“Minx.”

His fingers wrap around her wrist and she giggles as he pulls her back to him. Of course he’s thought about being with Emma—dreamt about it nearly every night for close to two months—but to know that she thought the same…

He thinks about throwing out a jest to calm his nerves about her purchasing a whole _box_ , but then she’s kicking off her shorts and unhooking her bra and he’s rendered speechless. She straddles his waist again after he pushes his pajama pants down and his jaw clenches to keep himself from spilling over at the feel of her warmth being so close.

“It’s a good thing you bought a box,” he murmurs with a nervous chuckle.

She gives him a wink as she rips open one of the packages and he takes a deep breath. It’s never been like this for him… _ever._ He’s always been the one in control, the one offering confident winks while the woman lays before him. Now, he’s the one laying there feeling completely helpless while he wills his body to stop shaking as Emma rolls the condom onto his cock.

He wants to tell her he’s not usually like this, he wants to show her he’s capable of so much more, but then she lifts herself above him and it’s like he’s a young lad again.

Killian licks his lips, his hands moving to her thighs as he watches her guide his cock inside of her.

“Bloody hell,” he practically sobs while his head falls back and his fingers flex against her skin. “D-don’t move… not yet.”

“Okay,” she pants, and his eyes squeeze shut.

She feels better than he ever could have dreamed and it’s taking every ounce of strength he has not to thrust up while yanking her hips back and forth on him, but he doesn’t. He simply lays there, trying to control himself while her heat throbs around him. He’s not sure how long they stay like that, but when her fingers begin massage his chest, he bites his bottom lip and gives a small nod.

Lifting his head, he watches through hooded eyes as Emma begins to slowly rock above him. Her lips are parted, a soft mewl falling past them every few seconds before she sits up fully, giving him a perfect view of her bare breasts. Her nipples are hard, and it makes his mouth water because he wants to taste them again, but he’s afraid if he moves, he’ll come undone.

He runs his hands up her thighs to her hips, his fingertips brushing softly against her skin until he reaches her breasts. Cupping each in his hand, he bites his bottom lip as she groans, _“_ Oh _God_ ,” before arching her back to push them into his hands.

“Gods, Emma,” he breathes, his right thumb circling her pebbled nipple while his left hand massages her other breast. “I can’t wait to worship you properly.” He lifts his hips ever so slightly to thrust into her and his heart begins to race even faster. “My goddess, my love… I love you so much.”

He thinks she responds, but it’s so mixed with harsh pants and deep moans that he’s unable to understand what she’s saying. She begins to move faster and his breath hitches.

“S-slow down, love,” his voice is trembling. “I’m not… I can’t…”

Emma suddenly pushes forward until she’s hovering above him with her forehead pressed to his.

“Touch me,” she pleads against his lips. “I’m so close.”

Letting go of her hip, he moves his hand to her clit and uses his thumb to rub circles over it. She continues to tell him how close she is, whispered words against his lips and though he tries to hold off, it’s more than he can take.

“E-Emma, _fuck_!”

He shakes beneath her, his thumb still rubbing frantic circles on her clit while he gets lost in a sea of pleasure. It’s _never_ been like this before, never so intense, so earth shattering, so… _right_. He can feel his orgasm all the way down to his toes and the tiny pinpricks in his cheeks that mean it truly did overtake his entire body.

It’s only after he’s able to think again, that he realizes there’s a warmth on his neck and he cracks an eye open. Looking down, he finds Emma’s face pushed into his neck—her harsh pants being the warmth that he feels—and he silently curses.

“I’m s-sor—”

“Don’t be.” When she looks up at him, she looks almost _drunk_ with pleasure and gives a lazy smile.

Now that he’s more relaxed, he can feel her muscles twitching around his softening cock and he grins. “That was…”

“Amazing.” She murmurs before dropping back down onto his chest and he breathlessly chuckles.

“Aye… amazing.”

After he cleans up and lays back down, Emma burrows herself back into his chest and while his eyes begin to droop, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like to fall asleep every night like this, because he still can’t believe this all is true. He thought he was doomed to spend the rest of his days in the shadows, hiding away from a world that would never accept him—then a feisty blonde showed up on his doorstep and twisted his world upside down.

Who would have ever thought when she knocked on his door three months prior that they’d be laying together like this? That she’d see past the monster he was and love him? And not because of his looks or any trickery… it was because she wanted _him_.

“I have to go back to New York.”

Killian’s body goes stiff and his hand stops running up and down her arm. “What?”

She pushes herself up from his chest to press a kiss just under his ear before falling back down. “Just to get the rest of my things. It’s not much, but now that Neal’s in jail, there’s no reason to leave it there.”

His body sags in relief before he pulls her closer. “Your brother is still okay with you staying here?”

Emma snorts. “Are you kidding me? You heard him, he practically _told_ me I was moving in.”

“It was pretty comical to see him so dumbfounded when you jested that perhaps you didn’t want to move in.”

“What if I wasn’t joking?”

Pressing his lips to her forehead, he asks, softly, “What do you mean?”

“We should move in together.” He blinks, unsure if he’s heard her correctly, until she pushes herself up to look at him with a wide smile on her face. “What do you think?”

“Are you serious?”

She bites her bottom lip. “If you want me to be.”

He breathes out a chuckle of disbelief and when he sees her frown, he pulls her back into his arms. “Of bloody course I want you to be… how could you doubt that?”

Her hand moves to his chest and it tickles a little when she brushes her hands through his chest hair. “You don’t think we’re moving too fast?”

“We love each other, proven by the breaking of a curse— “

“That you didn’t tell me about,” she cuts in and he can feel her scowl on his skin.

“My point is—” He rolls his eyes. “—I don’t think there’s such a thing as _too fast_ when it comes to us. Aye, it’s been only three months, but it feels longer…” He leans back to look down at her for confirmation and when she nods, he continues. “So, why should we allow something as trivial as time to hold us back?”

Her eyes move down and it’s not until he places his fingers underneath her chin to tilt her head back up to him that she sighs. “Killian, we are talking about _living_ together, I want you to be sure.”

It’s his turn to snort.

“Swan, we, for all intents and purposes, moved in together the first night we met.” That makes her smile. “Why would I ever want to move backwards?”

Biting her lip, she mumbles, “I don’t know.”

“Neither do I.” He taps her nose and it makes her giggle. “Now, I’m assuming you want to stay in Storybrooke?”

“I’d like to be near David, yes.”

He nods. “And I’d like to be near Liam and with Graham living here, he’s not going anywhere, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find a nice little place for us, because if it’s alright with you, I’d like to _not_ live in that house anymore.”

He makes a mental note to stop by the bank tomorrow and start the proceedings of opening an account. He’ll probably only be able to transfer over a small portion at first, but he’s sure it will be more than enough for them to put a down payment. It’s not like he’s worked, but ever since Liam went back to their father’s office three years ago to demand that he sign over Killian’s inheritance from their mum and his earnings from modeling, he’s had plenty to survive and then some.

“You’re _sure_ you don’t want to go back to London?”

Rolling his eyes again, he turns so that he’s leaning over her and brushes his hand down her face. “Where you are is where I want to be, Emma. I’ll not leave, not unless you order me away… and possibly not even then.” She giggles again, and he pinches her chin between his finger and thumb. “No more hiding away our feelings, or doubting how we feel… I’m in this for the long haul, all you have to do is trust me.”

The sparkle in her eyes is back before she wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him down to capture his lips after assuring, “Good thing that I do.”

* * *

**May – 2020**

The bell jingles above Killian’s head as he pulls open the door to Granny’s diner and he politely smiles as some of the customers greet him. It’s busier due to it being close to the lunch hour which means he has to wait until someone is free to check on his order.

Resting his elbow on the counter, he reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone when a small lad comes running up to him after calling out, “Mr. Jones!”

“Henry, my boy, how are you?”

Henry Mills stands before him with a wide grin and a book tucked under his arm.

“I’m good,” the ten-year old answers, shifting on his feet. “I just had a late breakfast with my aunt.”

Smiling, Killian says, “That sounds like fun.”

“Yeah, Aunt Zelena lets me have chocolate milk with my cereal.” Killian breathes out a small laugh while Henry continues. “Are you coming back to school next week?”

“If Mr. Heller is still unwell, then I’ll be there.”

Henry’s face lights up and it makes Killian swell with pride.

“I hope so, you’re such a better teacher than he is, he doesn’t know anything about history.”

Covering his laugh with a cough, Killian feigns disappointment. “Lad, you shouldn’t say things like that. Mr. Heller is a fine teacher, he was the one that came up with the project, did he not?”

“But _you_ were the one that helped me when I told you I wanted to do it on pirates! I forgot to tell you, I picked out who I wanted to write a paper on… do you want to hear?”

“Of course.”

Henry squeezes himself up to the counter, mumbling apologies to the people he bumps into and Killian kneels down to his level as the boy places the book he’s holding on an empty stool.

“I want to write my paper on—” He flips through a couple pages before stopping and pointing to a drawing. “—Anne Bonny. She’s an Irish pirate that sailed in the Caribbean—she’s actually one of the most famous girl pirates of all time.” Killian’s smile widens as he watches the lad speak with such passion. “You know, she dressed like a boy to become a part of the crew on the ship of the guy that she was going to marry.”

“That’s because women were believed to be bad luck and too weak to handle life aboard a ship.”

“That’s dumb,” Henry snorts as he closes his book. “Girls can do anything boys can do.”

Killian ruffles his hair. “That’s right, lad, they can.” He pushes himself up just as Zelena approaches and places her hands on Henry’s shoulders. “I can’t wait to read all about it.”

There’s a blush that forms on Henry’s cheeks before he waves goodbye and walks out with his aunt. With a small smile, Killian turns back toward the counter to find Ruby there clearing off a few empty plates. “I hear Mr. Jones is the best teacher at Storybrooke prep.”

Shaking his head, he mumbles, “I’m not a teacher, not yet.”

“Could have fooled me,” she singsongs while turning back to him.

Though there’s a small smile, he counters. “I’m still in school, which means I’m only interning. The teachers just leave assignments for the students to work on while I sit there. I’m a glorified babysitter, at best.”

“Oh, please. I hear all the kids boast about cool Mr. Jones and his fantastical voices when he’s reading a story, Henry especially. He’s such a sweet boy.”

“Aye, he is.”

“Hard to believe Regina is his mother, huh?”

He scoffs out a laugh before shaking his head.

“She’s not all that bad.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re friends with her husband.”

He rolls his eyes, despite his smile and nods behind her. “Is our order ready, lass?”

Ruby pats his hand reassuringly as she pulls a piece of paper out of her apron before disappearing into the kitchen. Killian taps his fingers on the counter, another itch to check his phone for a message nagging him until Ruby steps back in front of him and places a bag along with a paper cup on the counter.

“I didn’t order any coffee.”

The brunette lifts her shoulder and twists the cup around to reveal what looks to be writing.

“It’s not coffee.”

With a raised eyebrow, he reaches for the cup, and his lips spread into a wide smile as he sees the note written in crossword blocks.

**_I can’t wait to see you, I love you!  
xoxo_ **

Feeling a rush of warmth wash over him, Killian takes a sip from the cup—hot chocolate—and hums when he tastes the whipped cream and cinnamon.

“Oh _God_ ,” Ruby’s groan makes him look up to find her rolling her eyes. “Even apart you guys are sickly sweet. Let me guess, you miss her even though you only saw her just last night.”

“In my defense, it’s the first night we’ve spent apart in two years,” he shrugs after pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. “One day, you’ll know the feeling.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Leaning forward with a smirk, Killian whispers, “And what of your relationship with Lady Gale?” Ruby’s eyes go wide. “I heard you two were snogging your faces off outside the Rabbit Hole the other night.”

She rips his credit card away from him and grumbles. “Leroy really needs to keep his damn mouth shut.” Killian chuckles as she turns to run his card before calling out over her shoulder, “Oh, before I forget, Granny wanted me to tell you that your reservation is still in place for next weekend.”

“I assume that means remodeling is back on track?” He asks after she turns back to hand him his receipt.

“Yeah, she worked it out with the guys and they should have the road more visible by the grand opening next month.”

“That’s wonderful.”

She smiles at him and places her palms on the counter. “What’s wonderful is you donating that house to my grandmother.”

Shaking his head, he assures for what has to be the hundredth time. “Don’t mention it, lass.”

It was a little less than a year ago when Liam got the call: their father had had a massive heart attack and was on life support, and it was up to them to decide on what to do. Killian remembers being unable to sleep that night, and how he went out on their back porch to think, only to have Emma come find him. He told her the confusion he felt about going there and how he should feel about his father dying.

_“He hasn’t even bothered to check to see if I’m still alive—why the bloody hell should I care that soon he may not be?”_

She didn’t even flinch, she simply wrapped her arms around his waist and placed her chin on his shoulder, never once judging him for his confusion or for his dark thoughts. He spent a long while telling her about his father—stories he’d already told her—and it wasn’t until the sun started to rise that he asked her if she would go to London with him.

His father died on a Tuesday, his funeral was on a Thursday, and that Friday, Killian and Liam found they inherited a shipping company. It was a lot of work, and a _lot_ of paperwork, but by the end, he and Liam came to the same decision, they’d sell off the company, donate a portion of the profits in their mother’s name, and that would be the end of it.

Then the day before they were to sign, they were having lunch at Granny’s when they overhead the elder woman complaining about all the troubles she was having with her bed and breakfast and how the repairs were too much. They went to the lawyers the next day and put a clause in their contract, they’d sell off the company, all the ships, and its docks, under the agreement that they were to keep the house and one slip at the docks. Once it was all settled, they gifted Granny the house along with a large sum of money for whatever she may need and never looked back.

“If there is _anything_ we can do—”

Holding up his hand, Killian cuts her off, “There’s nothing Liam or I need nor want.” She raises her eyebrow and he sighs. “Alright, throw in one of those bear claws and we are even.”

Ruby laughs loudly before turning to place a bear claw in a small bag for him. With a wink, he takes it and the paper bag along with his hot chocolate and walks out of the diner.

* * *

Killian’s adjusting the straps of his suspenders when he hears the door open. He barely has a chance to turn before a small body hurls itself at him and tiny arms wrap around his legs.

“Unc Killy!”

“Hey, lad!” Looking up he sees David walking in with a small smile on his face. “What are you guys doing here?”

“I was tasked by my wife _and_ the photographer to run out and get more champagne. Figured it’s the best time to stop by.”

Killian leans down to pick up the small boy—who instantly starts to play with Killian’s hair—and asks, “A bit demanding, isn’t she?” When he doesn’t get a response, he turns to see David’s blank expression and smirks, “I was talking about the photographer.”

“Plus,” David continues as he walks forward and sits on the edge of the bed, clearly ignoring Killian’s comment, “little man here was getting antsy.”

“Aw, what’s the matter, little prince? Was it not fun with your mum and aunt Emma?”

Leo giggles, his blue eyes sparkling as he bounces his hands on Killian’s hair. “No.”

“No?” Leo giggles again and Killian starts to tickle him. “No? You still want to say no?”

“Ah! Unc Killy! Shirt!”

“He’s right,” David calls out over his son’s laughter. “Mary Margaret will kill you if you wrinkle his shirt.”

With a chuckle, Killian kneels down to place the lad on the floor and straightens his suit jacket. “Good thing I know just how to sway your mum, aye, my boy?”

Leo gives him a high five before he runs out of the room yelling for his Uncle Liam. Standing back up, Killian reaches for his tux jacket and throws it around his shoulders.

“Have you talked to my sister?”

Raising his eyebrow, Killian answers. “Not since last night… why?”

David doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he stands and walks over to Killian and fixes his tie with a small smirk on his lips. “You nervous?”

Snorting, he fixes the crease he feels at the back of his neck on his collar and says, “Hardly. You know how I feel about her.”

His mate’s smirk pulls into a full-blown smile as he chuckles and not for the first time, Killian picks up on the similarities between David and his love.

“I do. Which is why I’ve let you stay around so long.” Tilting his head with a playful smirk, he watches as Dave rolls his eyes before mumbling, “And I guess you’ve grown on me a bit.”

“Well, I tend to have that effect on people. Come now, give us a kiss.” He steps forward to grab his mate’s cheeks, attempting to pull him in for a kiss as they both begin to laugh.

To say that the two have become close in the two years that have passed would be a great understatement. At first, there was tension. David was wary of the man that his sister claimed to love after only three months, while after his prolonged isolation Killian found it hard to interact with others outside of Emma and Liam. There were questions David had that Emma tried to keep him from asking by smacking him, and awkward silences as Killian thought of a way to answer them. It wasn’t until one night when he and David were forced to spend time alone together—Emma was working late at the station covering for him while Mary Margaret stayed at the school for a PTA meeting—that things changed.

_“Do you love her?”_

_“I’d go to the end of the world for her.” There’s a pause. “I know you don’t believe me yet…”_

_“No, I do. That’s what scares me.” Another pause. “If you hurt her I’ll kill you.”_

_“I can’t promise I’ll never hurt her, Dave, but I can promise it won’t ever be intentional.”_

And it’s another thing Killian will forever be grateful for because David Nolan has become his best and closest friend.

“Don’t push it!” David chuckles while swatting him away. Killian steps back with a laugh while David reaches into his pocket. “Oh, before I forget—” He pulls out a purple, velvet bag. “—this is what you wanted, right?”

“Aye, thank you!” Killian praises before taking the bag and putting it down onto the dresser. “I didn’t want to take a chance Emma might find it—and thank you for not giving this to me in front of your son. You know how much I love that little lad, but I’m afraid he’s just like your wife when it comes to keeping secrets.”

David snorts. “Let’s hope he’ll grow out of it.”

Killian gives a small chuckle before he moves to walk out only to have David stop him. “What?”

“Dude, I know you don’t look in the mirror that often, but it’s a wedding and your nephew has made your hair look like you just rolled out of bed. Fix yourself.”

* * *

Checking his cufflinks, Killian peeks into the hall. The room is starting to fill up but the one person he wants to see isn’t—

“Will you help me with this blasted thing?”

He jumps back with a gasp and shakes his head when he sees Liam walking up. “How is it possible for someone so big to be so quiet?”

“Shut up,” Liam grumbles while slapping his hands on his thighs. “Just fix this.”

Seeing the crooked knot, Killian scoffs. “Bloody hell, what did you _do_ to it?”

“I thought I had it.”

“Thought being the important word there,” Killian mutters, his brows pinched together as he pulls the knot free. “When was the last time you tied a tie?”

“I don’t know… my first date with Graham?”

Killian blinks up at him with a blank expression. “Liam, _I_ tied that for you!”

“Alright, alright,” Liam nods in defeat. “Next time you stop by, you’ll teach me, happy?”

They don’t live together anymore, haven’t for a while, but sometimes, for Killian at least, he likes to remind himself that despite them living apart, they _do_ live close together. So, on occasion, he’ll pop by Liam and Graham’s flat for lunch or a chat.

“Or the next time you pop by mine?”

Liam will also do the same thing.

He watches as Liam turns to look in a mirror before calling over his shoulder, “I think I’ll refrain from _popping_ by your flat for a while. Not after the pancake incident.”

Scoffing out a laugh, Killian reaches up to scratch the back of his ear and shakes his head. Last week, Liam did one of his _drop by’s_ only to find he and Emma in the middle of a _private_ act.

“We were having breakfast,” he lies with a small shrug, making Liam’s eyes widen.

“You can’t eat breakfast while wearing _handcuffs_ , Killian!”

“She’s the deputy,” he counters while lifting his hand to cover his smile. “They must be tested out every—”

Liam holds up his hand. “That’s enough, thank you.”

Unable to hide the way his shoulders shake, Killian tilts his head and moves to the side. The look on his brother’s face when he’d walked through the door to see Emma straddling Killian while his hands were handcuffed behind him was priceless. It was a mixture between embarrassment and shock, and when Emma squeaked out, _“He was still tired, so I’m helping him eat.”_ Killian truly believed Liam was going to faint.

“It’s just about time,” Liam shakes his shoulders and smirks. “You nervous?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking _you_ that question?”

Liam’s laugh is small before he pats Killian’s arms. “You know how I’ve felt for ages now.” Killian smiles and Liam’s face suddenly goes serious. “But I’m making sure _you’re_ okay with this because I don’t want you—”

“Brother, stop,” Killian interrupts. “You’re worrying about things you shouldn’t be worrying about.”

“I’m worrying about _you_ ,” Liam says, his voice very direct. “I always worry about you.”

Killian smiles. “Aye, you do.” He takes a deep breath and looks Liam straight in the eye. “And I wish there was a way that I could pay you back for that and for everything else you’ve done for me. I very much wish there was a way that I could make up for our lost time, but there isn’t. All I _can_ do is say thank you, I love you, and I’m proud to call you my brother.”

When he’s finished, he holds his right hand out to Liam and smiles as their fingers thread together. His brother lifts their hands and presses a kiss to the back of it.

“I love you, too, little brother.”

“Really?”

Liam tilts his head and whines. “Come on.”

Pressing his lips together, Killian’s brows raise, which makes Liam pout, and he huffs. “Fine.” The smile on his brother’s face is worth it and Killian nods to the door. “It’s time to go.”

As requested, no one stands as they enter the hall, and while Liam’s looking across the way at the door on the other side of the room, Killian’s looking in the crowd. Like a beacon of light, he spots her and his heart flutters. Her blonde locks are pulled up into a bun with a few strands hanging loose to frame her face. She’s wearing red, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from whimpering at how beautiful she looks. He’s so distracted by the way she looks, that he almost misses Leo’s excited wave. The small lad is standing on the seat next to his aunt and smiling around the thumb in his mouth.

Giving a wink, he walks with Liam to the altar at the same time Graham and David do and moves to the side so that he may watch his brother marry the love of his life.

* * *

There’s the chatter of voices all around along with the hum of the music playing in the background and while just about the entire town of Storybrooke was there to celebrate the marriage of Liam and Graham, Killian couldn’t take his eyes off of Emma.

“You stare at me any harder you’re going to drill a hole in my head.”

Emma’s words make him smile and he leans down to press a soft kiss on the curve between her shoulder and her neck.

“I’m merely making sure you’re real, darling.”

Without even looking at her face, he knows that she’s rolling her eyes, though he can hear the smile in her voice, “It was one night.”

“Felt like a lot longer.” He presses another kiss to her skin. “I don’t sleep right without you there.”

“Neither do I,” she admits before shrugging, “And I adore him, but Graham is way too warm. He’s like a human space heater.”

Killian’s head snaps back. “You let Graham sleep in our bed?”

“No!” She gasps, her faced pulled into almost horror. “We fell asleep on the couch while watching TV. I let Mary Margaret and Leo have the bed.”

“Oh.”

Emma’s loud laugh makes a few people from the other tables look at them and his frown deepens.

“Oh, babe,” she soothes as she reaches up to pat his cheek. “I know you’re the jealous type—”

“I’m not jealous,” he grumbles, and it makes her laugh again.

“Would you really care if we _did_ sleep in the same bed?” He doesn’t say anything, he simply picks up his glass of wine and takes a sip. “He’s your brother’s husband!”

Heaving a sigh, he wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her close. “I know, I know. It’s just while my new brother-in-law was sharing a couch with the love of my life, I was dealing with my brother’s snoring.”

Her continued laughter doesn’t help his frown disappear and it’s not until she moves to press a kiss to the spot under his ear that his lips lift into a small smile.

“I was thinking of you the entire time, I promise.”

That makes him chuckle and he presses a kiss to her head as she leans back against him. While they watch their family and friends dance, Emma fiddles with his rings, and when he looks down, he catches a glimpse of her necklace. Her mother’s swan pendant is there as it always is, but it’s the other addition that catches his eye. When his father died, they acquired a lot of things such as art, furniture, family portraits, and his mother’s wedding band.

When he found it, to say he was surprised would be an understatement, because he knew for a fact that his father got rid of her engagement ring a long time ago—claimed it was too sad of a memory for him to keep. Killian had always assumed he did the same with her wedding band, which is why when he found it in his father’s bedroom, he didn’t realize what it was until Liam told him. That night, he gave it to Emma—

_“I know it’ll be safe with you because you saved me…”_

—and the next morning he saw it hanging from her chain next to her mother’s swan pendant. She hasn’t taken it off since.

It’s only after the sound of Paul McCartney’s voice singing ‘And I Love Her’ reaches his ears that he places his glass of wine back on the table and reaches for Emma’s hand.

“Shall we dance, love?”

She smiles up at him as she stands and says, “Only if you promise to sing to me like you do when we dance at home. It’s been too long.”

His lips spread wide, not only for the fact that it was just yesterday afternoon before he left for Liam’s that he spun her around their kitchen while singing in her ear, but also because the way she pokes out her bottom lip is absolutely adorable.

“As you wish.”

Killian wraps his arms around her waist, his lips once again finding the curve of her neck as they begin to sway to the music.

_“She gives me everything, and tenderly, the kiss my lover brings, she brings to me, and I love her…”_

Sometimes he still can’t believe this is his life, that the woman that he’s holding close loves him and that he’s worthy of that love. Okay, maybe he still doesn’t believe that last part, but he tries hard to work to to be worthy of it every day.

“Do you think we’ll do this one day?”

He smiles against her skin. “Dance? Isn’t that what we are doing right now?” The light smack she gives his shoulder makes him chuckle. “I’m jesting, love. Do I think we’ll do what one day?”

“Get married. I mean, I know we’ve _talked_ about it, but…” She trails off and he pulls her closer.

They _have_ talked about it—well, they had a drunken conversation about it one night six months ago, but she’s not brought it up since. Killian, however, went out the next day and bought the ring that’s currently in a purple, velvet bag at his brother’s house. The reason he hasn’t asked her yet is because he wants to do it where they first met, and they aren’t scheduled to go to Granny’s Bed and Breakfast until next weekend.

Lightly running his hand up and down her spine, he hums into her neck and asks, “Would you like for this to be us one day?”

Her nails scratch lightly against his scalp and he pulls her closer. There was never a doubt that he wanted to marry Emma, and he never believed there was a doubt that she would want to marry him—funny how a love strong enough to break a curse rids any and all doubt—but the timing never seemed… right.

When they first got together, they had to go to New York to empty her apartment, then they were searching for a home. Just after they found their house, Graham mentioned he wasn’t running for Sheriff again, choosing to change careers instead. Then David was elected Sheriff and he made Emma his Deputy. Around the same time, Mary Margaret helped Killian find classes online so he could start to become a teacher — and just as they were _finally_ starting to settle in with their new jobs, his father died, leaving the financial and legal mess that was sorting out what would happen to the Jones Shipping Company.

It wasn’t until they had that drunken conversation much more recently that he decided sod the so-called right time, he loved her and wanted to marry her — but then Graham came to him and asked permission to propose to Liam. For for the sake of his brother’s happiness—Liam deserved to have the spotlight for once, and in this case, Killian was more than happy to give it to him—he put his own engagement on hold, much to David’s dismay.

_“You have until the first day of summer then I’m rescinding my blessing.”_

_“I’m… not quite sure you’re allowed to do that, Dave.”_

“Yeah,” Emma answers and Killian’s smile widens. “I really would. We should probably wait a little while though.”

“Oh?” Amusement drips from his voice as he continues to caress her spine. “For how long?”

She shrugs. “Nine months.”

“Why nine months?”

“Because I’d want the baby to be in the wedding.”

With his brow furrowed, he looks over to where Leo is dancing with Liam and Graham. “Leo’s hardly a baby anymore, Swan.”

Her lips move to his ear. “I was talking about _our_ baby.”

“We don’t have a—” He stops suddenly, her words finally sinking in and his hand freezes while his entire body goes stiff. Pulling back slowly, his heart begins to hammer against his chest bone and he blinks rapidly as her hands move from the back of his head to cup his jaw. She’s biting her lip and her eyes are glassy as he asks, “Are you… are you pregnant?”

“We have an appointment with Whale on Monday to confirm, but if three positive tests are any indication…”

Before she’s done speaking, he tightens his hold on her and lifts her in the air to spin them around. Emma giggles while a tear runs down her face and when he places her back on the ground he doesn’t hesitate to fuse his lips with hers.

Killian remembers what it was like when Liam first told him that he was in love with Graham. He remembers being so angry on the inside that he could barely think, because he believed _love_ was the reason he was cursed and how dare his brother find that which was the cause of all his problems. He remembers balking every time he heard Liam and Graham speak of having children, because why would they want to bring a child into such a dark world?

Now, he’s at a reception that’s celebrating his brother marrying the love of his life and dancing with a woman that saved him with her love and helped him see that _he_ was the cause of his problems, that helped him believe that he _could_ change and be a good man… and she’s just told him they are to have a child—a child that he will make sure knows how beautiful the world is.

“I love you,” he mumbles, his own tears of joy running down, wetting both of their cheeks. “I love you so bloody much.”

Emma places her forehead on his and mumbles the four words that still make his heart flutter,

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr (xemmaloveskillianx) and Twitter (k_writes_cs) for updates and sneak peeks :D


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